A Glint of Amber Stars
by Rem-chan
Summary: In the distant future, a wandering soul questions who and what he is, plagued by unwanted changes and dark, forgotten dreams...A crossover of Rurouni Kenshin and Star Trek: The Next Generation.
1. A Light Shaded Dream, Part 1

******

**Author's Note**: No, I'm not crazy and you aren't seeing things. This really is a crossover of _Rurouni__ Kenshin _and _Star Trek: The Next Generation_, although I must, of course, state _when _in these series this is taking place. For RK, it is after the end of the series, as this is a reincarnation/past life fic. For ST:TNG, its an undetermined amount of time after _Star Trek: First Contact, _but before _Insurrection _and _Nemesis_ (and don't get me thinking about _Nemesis _or I'll cry…*sniff*). The esteemed _Enterprise-E _is all nice and spiffy again (there's at least been enough time passed for it to have been repaired), but Worf's onboard for reasons that will be revealed.

        Also, if you ask anyone who knows me, they'll tell you that I have a terrible memory. With that established, you must forgive me for any inaccuracies in either the _Kenshin_or _Trek _universes, especially ST. And I don't have a nitpicker's guide or anything at home, so there are few ways I can back up my information Although, I do have a goodly amount of _Star Trek: The Magazine_, which is where I'm getting most (if not all) of my information from. Still, if there is anything glaringly off, please inform me and I'll fix it as soon as I can. Provided I can remember to, of course. ^_^

**Disclaimer: **I certainly don't own either of these franchises, because, if I did, I would also have a car. And a cell phone. And the Taco Bell™ chain of restaurants…

******

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan******

Sequence One: A Light-Shaded Dream, Part 1

        _"What is your name?"_

_        I couldn't save them, I couldn't fight, I was the only one…_

_        "What is your name?"_

_        I could only bury their bodies, I couldn't protect them…I was too small, too young, too weak…_

_        "What is your name?"_

_        Why couldn't I…?_

_        "…Shinta."_

_        "A child's name, unsuitable for a swordsman…"_

_        I have to be strong, I have to…keep on living…it's what they wanted, what they asked…what they _died _for…_

_        "From now on, your name will be--"_

_        I **have **to…_

_        "--Kenshin."_

What?

        _"…Ken…shin…"_

        Sudden confusion and a reoccurring fear widening violet eyes, Lieutenant Shinta Akimatsu bolted upright in bed, coming face to face with a plethora of streaking stars and a curtain of flame-colored strands. It took him several seconds to realize where exactly he was and loosen the grip his mind had on his tense muscles. Forcing himself to gradually relax, Shinta glanced at the still-flickering screen of his computer terminal, inwardly groaning at what he saw.

        It was just a few minutes past 0600 hours and he was due in sickbay in about half an hour. Normally, he wouldn't have minded waking up earlier than usual, but, after a week of this, Shinta was finding himself rather upset. And, with those dreams…it hardly felt like he had slept at all.

        "Ahh, it doesn't matter," Shinta said softly as he pulled the thin sheets away from his body and stretched. "…that it does not."

        Shinta stopped abruptly, once again noticing the odd habit that had been popping up lately. It wasn't a big deal or anything; he just…never really talked like that, used such an odd turn of phrase. Though it didn't cause any problems, it made him wonder all the more. Also, he tended to get strange looks from fellow crewmembers if he let one or more unusual phrases past his lips.

        Being one of the newer officers onboard the famous _Enterprise-E, _Shinta did not want to do _anything _that embarrassed or discredited himself in any way. He was still awed and mystified by how he had been assigned to the flagship of the fleet, especially since he had only graduated from Starfleet Academy six years ago. To most people that seemed like a decent amount of time, but, unless he had graduated at the top of his class—and he hadn't—, Shinta couldn't even comprehend himself as being eligible for crewmanship on the _Enterprise_, of all ships. Of course, being on the medical tenure had doubled the usual four-year training time, but still…

        Glancing over, he realized a good ten minutes had passed with him pondering over nothing. Shinta really did groan this time and got to his feet. _Now _was his time to be going and he might as well get to it. Quickly putting his bed in order, Shinta went to his terminal, accessing his calendar of ship's operations and functions, however unreliable as it was. The _Enterprise_, as he had quickly learned, was prone to surprise missions and unexpected delays, more often than not resulting in some perilous situations. Such an occurrence had yet to happen with him onboard, but practically everybody in the quadrant knew the ship's famous—or perhaps infamous—reputation.

        Surprises aside, his soft violet eyes, unusual in humans but more often overlooked in these times, caught the small text message he'd left for himself, a reminder to attend T'Ume's birthday celebration. Of course, the Vulcan herself didn't know about it, as it would have never been planned had she been aware. T'Ume was a calm, collected, and intelligent officer, a real gem in Engineering, but still something of a stick in the mud. Shinta didn't like to go by stereotypes, but when it came to Vulcans…well, they really did act mostly the same most of the time.

        Although, there were some speculations about her; rumors flew that she smiled every now and then, that she liked flower arrangement, and even partook of the occasional synthesized alcoholic beverage. So yes, in spite of everything, she was an individual all her own and, in Shinta's mind, a dear friend.

        "She reminds me of someone I knew…," Shinta said softly to himself as he entered the sonic shower, distractedly punching in a command to the replicator as he passed by. "But I…I can't seem to recall…"

        _…Tomoe…_

        A feeling of such intense grief suddenly washed over Shinta in a wave of cold shivers all down his body. Shock evident on his features, he sagged against the side of the shower, trying to gain control over his rampant and unexplainable emotions. As it was, he was battling just to keep tears from streaming down his face. 

        "Wha…what is this?" He whispered to no one, shaking his head and absentmindedly switching off the sonic wave. "Who is…?"

        Shinta started to ask himself the question, but the feeling faded as rapidly as it had come, leaving him drained and more confused than before. What was happening to him? He couldn't even remember the name that had whispered through his mind, nor the exact nature of the terrible sadness that had suddenly taken over him. It certainly was something to be concerned about; knowing something with absolute knowledge, then completely losing it the next second?  
        "Perhaps I should schedule an appointment with Troi-dono," Shinta said to himself, then rolled his eyes and decided to ignore the unknown honorific he had used. True, he was Japanese, but old and long-forgotten Japanese language and culture certainly hadn't been one of his majors at the Academy. "But whatever the problem is can wait until the end of my shift."

        His eyes wandered again to his calendar as he walked past and the shadows in his mind faded as he smiled. All the friends he had made in his first three months onboard would be at the party and it was certainly an event he was looking forward to. Though he could handle stress amazingly well, even he liked a little fun every now and then. Sometimes he wished he had been assigned to the _Enterprise-D_, when they had still allowed families and children onboard, but he could understand the decision to change that policy.

        After all, no child should ever be in danger because of someone else's battles.

        Noting the rapidly escaping time, Shinta quickly pulled on his underclothes and the deepened teal shirt that marked him as part of Medical. Then, the overall black jumpsuit with the pleated, iron gray shoulder blaze went over that, Shinta adjusting the teal-striped cuffs with the ease of long practice. Then, he pulled up the collar of his shirt and affixed the two golden pips that stated his rank. Grabbing his slender black boots, Shinta went to the replicator to gulp down his heavily-creamed coffee as fast as he could.

        It was with some amusement and consternation that he gazed down at the round cup filled with green tea.

        "Then again, maybe I should request a session _before_ my shift," Shinta murmured resignedly and carefully brought the cup to his lips. He'd seen his father drink such a thing many a time, but Shinta had never taken it upon himself to do the same. Still, he found the murky green concoction to be fairly good, so a smile returned as he sat on the edge of a chair to place on his footwear. That done, he raised a hand to tie back his hair…but then realized something rather important.

        "Come _on_,Akimatsu," Shinta said aloud, running his fingers through bright red strands. "You've had short hair since you were five."

        Which was a good thing anyway, as overly long hair in males that had nothing to do with race, religion, or social constraints was against regulation. So, he kept his face framed by long, flame-colored strands that occasionally covered his eyes but did not impair his vision, while the back didn't extend farther than an inch past his ears. Sometimes his hair and bright violet eyes, as well as his youngish appearance and small stature, would cause people to mistake him for something other than human, but he had gotten used to that long ago. It was even a running joke now between he and his friends. Although, being mistaken for eighteen when he was indeed twenty-eight—and had been since last week—got annoying sometimes.

        Checking himself over one last time, Shinta finished the last of his tea, made a mental note to drink it more often, and headed out the door. The corridors of Deck 3 were fairly deserted, but the _Enterprise _was never really without some activity of some kind. Still, Shinta was pleased with the quiet walk to the turbolift and the empty compartment that greeted him. Although he enjoyed the company of others, Shinta always preferred a little time to himself in the mornings.

        "Deck 8," he said with a small smile and the doors swished shut, seeming to shut out all the unwanted idiosyncrasies and the dark, self-questioning memories as well.

_"What is your name?"_

_        I…don't know…_

******

        So, any comments? I was a bit nervous about posting this (I couldn't even figure out _where _post it!), as I have no idea how many RK fans who also like ST are out there. To my knowledge, I'm the only one, but, hopefully, a few people will prove me wrong. And, in the beginning at least, the chapters will be kinda short, but I hopefully, if I continue, they'll get longer. As it stands, this will be the one fic I won't update if I don't get a response. 

        Now, I normally wouldn't even _consider _such a thing, but, with working on two other fics at the same time, this one has to take a back seat. Although, I'm already pretty iffy on when I can post chapters of _those _fics, but oh well…And if you happen to be reading any of my other fics, it might please you to know that I'll be posting a new chapter of one on Nov. 11th, while I'll be starting a certain sequel the same day…^_~

        Anyway, if you like it, tell me. If you don't, tell me. If you want to flame me, just see if I care (which I don't). And, if you would like to tell me to continue, please feel free to do so, as I actually have a plan for this entire fic; I just need a little incentive to put it down on paper…in a manner of speaking…

        Hopefully, I'll be seeing you all again soon! ^_^


	2. A Light Shaded Dream, Part 2

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan**

Sequence One: A Light Shaded Dream, Part Two

        Captain Jean-Luc Picard was lost deep in his own thoughts, an occurrence that happened with familiar regularity. However, while he was often concerned with the doings of Starfleet and the Federation, his deliberations were focused on a closer, unabashedly stated threat towards the _Enterprise-E _herself. Only one short week ago, he had received a personal message from an unidentified individual, stating, without preamble, the desire to end the lives of every entity onboard.

        Normally, Picard would have disregarded that message, but, as it came over a secure channel and had an identical partner that arrived at Starfleet Headquarters at the exact same time, there was no way he could ignore it. A crack team of computer and communications specialists had immediately began pouring over the messages, trying to find their source and the identity of the user, but to no avail. Every attempt had ended in the same kind of failure, each search program and identification protocol frozen in its tracks by the same unseen and untraceable block.

        What's more, every program thusly affected was made completely useless afterwards, as if some invisible force was holding it in place and refusing to let it go. In light of this, Starfleet had seen fit to have emergency precautions set up, which included strict monitoring of the Enterprise and her crew and passengers, increased security, and the return of an officer trusted enough to handle the threat prevention.

        Picard had to smile; even with supposed danger hanging over them, it felt right to have Worf back on the _Enterprise_.

        Quite suddenly, the starship captain collided with a small and surprisingly light form, a shock of red hair flashing before his eyes as a slender man in Medical dress tripped and hit the floor, taking Picard with him.

        "Oro!"

        Thoughts strangely disjointed, Picard mused that it was a fortunate thing that no one else was currently in this particular corridor, then hastily picked himself up with as much dignity as he could muster. The young man, who didn't look a day over twenty, shook his flame-shrouded head, then glanced up to see who it was that he had rammed into during his hasty run to Sickbay. Instantly, violet eyes widened with something close to stark terror and the lieutenant, as evident by the pips on his collar, leapt to his feet, very nearly falling over again in the process.

        "Gomen nasai, Picard-sama!" The crewmen hastily apologized, rapidly bowing in a manner that hadn't been used in centuries. Picard quirked an eyebrow at this and, at the same time, the young man seemed to realize what it was that he was doing. Blushing a shade of red to rival the color of his hair, the lieutenant instantly stood up straight again and apologized once more, looking terribly abashed. "I'm sorry, Captain, I should've been paying attention…and not running in the corridors…and not taking so long that I would be late for my shift…and not--"

        "I think that's quite enough, Lieutenant," Picard said, raising a hand to ward off the rush of embarrassed explanations. The crewman winced and the captain inwardly sighed. When had all his lower officers started fearing him? Then again, with a reputation such as his own, he supposed it was inevitable. It made him all the more thankful for Riker and the others; as if they would fear _him. _That thought brought a smile to his face, which, in turn, caused the crewman to tilt his head in confusion. "I wasn't paying very much attention myself, so let's just say this didn't happen. Alright, Lieutenant….?"

        "Lieutenant Akimatsu," the young man instantly replied and a tiny, relieved smile lit those violet eyes. "And that would be fine, that it would."

        Picard quirked an eyebrow again and Akimatsu's eyes widened once more. Glancing at Picard with a nervous, embarrassed gaze, he slipped past him with a whispered 'Gomen' and disappeared around a corner. Picard watched him for a moment, then shook his head and continued on his way.

        "And here I thought I knew my own crew," he murmured to himself and made a mental note to visit the lounge more often.

        Although that would have to wait until later. The message had stated that the attempt upon the _Enterprise_would occur in about eight days, which meant they had only one more day after today. No one was really sure as to why the assailant was trying this now, but they had little time to discover it. Instead, they kept a vigilant guard and hoped that they would find this unknown attacker before he made his move. Picard was confident in the _Enterprise_and her crew, but anyone capable of the feats they had seen thus far was a person not to be taken lightly.

        And, somehow, he got the feeling that this threat was different from all the others he had faced before.

        "Worried, Jean-Luc?"

        At the sound of that calm, knowing voice, Picard glanced down into the deep, dark eyes of Deanna Troi, brunette hair framing her pert face and a small bag clutched in her hands. Instantly, Picard's mood lightened, though thoughts of his crew and their well-being did not leave his mind.

        "Brooding is more the word," Picard admitted in what he hoped with a light tone and Troi tilted her head.

        "Shall I schedule an appointment?"

        "I'll be sure to let you know, Counselor," Picard answered with a smile, but it faded quickly as a serious question pushed to the front of his mind. "But how is the rest of the crew taking this?"

        "Fairly well, all things considered," she answered all business now. "There are a few here and there that I'm already seeing, but no serious cases of panic have come up. For the most part, everyone is going on just as usual."

        "That's good," Picard responded, feeling one of the many weights slipping from his shoulders. Thinking back to the incident a few moments ago, he asked, "Is one of the officers you've been seeing a Lieutenant Akimatsu?"

        Troi's thin brows furrowed. "No, I haven't had a session with anyone of that name. Why do you ask?"

        Picard gave a miniscule shrug, "No particular reason beyond the young man seeming overly nervous."

        "Hmm, I may speak with him," Troi mused, then waved a slender hand. "Anyway, I believe we both have places to be. I have some equipment that a crewman left in my office that needs to be returned to Beverly and I'm sure you want to finish your brooding in your ready room."

        "You know me too well, Counselor," Picard replied with a smile to match Troi's and they each continued on their way, the captain with a barely discernable spring in his step.

        Neither of them took note of the Ensign that had quietly brushed past them, midnight green eyes narrowed and a smirk playing across his lips.

******

        "So you knocked the Captain over?" Dr. Beverly Crushed repeated to one of her male nurses, a grin fighting its way onto her face. "Really?"

        "Hai," Lieutenant Shinta Akimatsu admitted dejectedly, hunching forward in his chair so that his bright red hair hid his eyes. He didn't even seem to notice that he was using the more archaic form of 'yes' in Japanese. "I…certainly felt the fool…sessha is so embarrassed…"

        Beverly blinked at this. She had never heard such a term as 'sessha' before and it wasn't programmed into her universal translator. "Sessha?"

        Shinta seemed to jerk and he looked up, confusion clear in his violet eyes. "What?"

        "You just said 'sessha is so embarrassed'. Were you referring to yourself?"

        "I…," Shinta started to answer, then stopped, his mouth hanging open for a moment as something strange flickered deep in his eyes. "I…don't know."

        An expression of her concern mounting on her face, Beverly placed a hand on the small man's shoulder. Lieutenant Akimatsu may have only been on the _Enterprise_a short time, but he was a very kind and hardworking man, competent as well as gentle and very understanding of others, be they patient or healer. If her friend onboard the _U.S.S. Hawking _hadn't recommended him to replace some of her lost staff…well, she would have missed out on one of the best medical officers she had ever met.

        "Gomen, Beverly-dono, it's just…," Shinta stopped once more and sighed in defeat, leaning back in his chair so that tired, lilac-shaded eyes could gaze helplessly at the immaculate ceiling. "I'm sure you noticed how I've been acting the last couple of days. I've been really jumpy and my speech patterns have changed. And my dreams…"

        "Dreams?" Beverly repeated, her concern growing. Was it stress? It hardly seemed likely; while Shinta was somewhat absentminded and easily surprised and/or taken off guard most of the time, when he was working he was all focus and concentration. He had the eye and hand of an experienced surgeon and she didn't doubt he would become one should he continue his career in Medical. So, it didn't seem likely that anxiety, even with the current situation, was the cause of these changes. So what could it be? "Have you talked with Counselor Troi?"

        "I believe I shall do that," Shinta replied, barely managing to cut off the 'that I will' that had almost slipped out at the end of his sentence. "But I'll be fine for this shift."

        "Talking behind my back, Beverly?"

        With a swish of automatic doors, Deanna Troi made her way into Sickbay, a small black satchel in her hands. Crusher smiled for her, though a sliver of worry lingered at the back of her mind as Shinta politely excused himself and moved into the other room to begin running maintenance on the biobeds. Her gaze followed him all the way there and, naturally, attracted Troi's attention to the slender man as well.

        "I assume that's Lieutenant Akimatsu, right?" Troi asked and Beverly nodded with some surprise. "The Captain told me about him when we met in the hall."

        A frown tugged at the corner's of the doctor's mouth. "Now that I think about it, he _has _been acting strange for about a week now, ever since his twenty-eighth birthday. At first I really didn't notice; there was maybe a slip here and there, odd words that he had said. Once, he even called me 'Megumi', though I have no idea why."

        "That _is _strange…," Troi said softly, her arms crossed and her expression speculative. "And he's never acted like this before?"

        "He's only been part of my staff for about three months, but, during that time, he's been perfectly normal," thinking back, Beverly had to smile. "At least, what is normal for him. My acquaintance on the _Hawking_, the first officer, Commander Seijuro Akagawa, had worked with him since Shinta was a cadet at the Academy and he never mentioned anything like this. So…"

        "You're worried," Troi finished for her and Beverly nodded. "Has he talked about anything that might be the cause?"

        Beverly thought over this a moment, but knew that she really didn't have to ponder her answer, as he had just told her a few moments ago. "He said he's been having dreams. What kind, I don't know, but they might have something to do with this."

        "Do you think it's alright if I have a talk with him right now?" Troi asked. "Nothing official, of course, but I think I'll set up an appointment with him."

        "It's fine with me," Beverly said with a relieved smile, much to her surprise. She was rather shocked to realize how worried she was about him. Shinta was just the kind of person that you cared about, almost directly from the beginning. Certainly the way he acted and treated others was a factor, but she got the feeling that it went deeper than that. "We're practically empty right now, so it isn't a problem."

        Troi smiled and, with a nod, went out the office door, walking with light steps to the small man with the barely discernable shadows in the depths of his violet eyes.

******

        "Oro?" Shinta said in slight confusion as he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Momentarily disregarding that foolish word that kept popping out of his mouth more and more frequently, he glanced into pure black eyes, his own widening at the sight. "Erm…I mean, yes? You are Counselor Troi, right?"

        "Yes, I am, young man," Troi said in a friendly tone as she lowered her hand. "And you are Lieutenant Akimatsu."

        "Hai, but…," Shinta rubbed the back of his head, causing a glimmer of flame-touched strands. "I'm actually twenty-eight."

        Troi blinked, belatedly noticing her faux pas. Beverly had just _told _her Akimatsu's birthday had been about a week ago! Even so, the lieutenant looked so young…one would hardly think he wasn't fresh out of the Academy.

        "Oh, I'm sorry!" She exclaimed, feeling foolish. When had she last made a mistake like that? It was hard to remember…

        "Don't worry, Troi-dono," Shinta said quickly, inwardly wincing at how he just couldn't seem to call his superior officers by their correct rank. "But…um, why did you want to speak with me?"

        Quickly regaining her composure, Troi smiled. "I thought you were the one who wanted to speak with _me_?"

        "Ahh…," Shinta responded, looking a little abashed and a hint of a blush spread across his cheeks. "Hai, that's right. Sessha was intending to do so…"

        Shinta stopped talking and groaned, rubbing the back of his neck in consternation. "Well, you can see the problems I've been having. I'll just start talking in a completely different way. I just can't seem to help it! And there are other things…so, what time would be good for me to visit your office?"

        Troi smiled gently at the tentative yet willing look on Shinta's face. It appeared to be a fortunate thing that, despite the current complications, she wasn't overly busy. "Does 2200 tonight sound fine?"

        Shinta thought for a moment, then nodded. "Ha—I'm mean, yes, that would be good. I should be able to leave T'Ume's party by then…"

        Troi was tempted to ask about this party, as she vaguely knew the Vulcan T'Ume, but decided not to. She could only go so far in her duties. As it was, she had already gotten enough of a first impression off of Lieutenant Akimatsu.

        Kindness was foremost in his mind and heart, a kind of simple joy and understanding that wanted to live and see and do. Though he was currently very worried—more so than he was letting on—that kindness of heart still shone through. These changes in himself were wearing on his patience and a portion of his confidence, but not to the extent where it was effecting his abilities. If they found the source of this soon, there probably wouldn't been any serious problems at all and Shinta could go back to being the gentle man that his caring emotions proved him to be.

        However…

        As Troi made her way out of Sickbay to Shinta's 'Arigato, Troi-dono' and the following less-than-appropriate term, she couldn't forget that single flash of…something else that seemed to be hiding in the farthest parts of his mind. Being only half Betazoid, Troi couldn't fully explore what it was that lingered there, but she knew it wasn't kind _or _gentle.

        It had felt…deadly.

******

        Okay, that one was a bit longer. Not by much, maybe, but still…anyway, things may seem a bit slow now, but I promise they'll get better. Shinta may seem a bit disjointed right now—not really Kenshin but not really anyone else—but things will become clearer soon. Also, more ST characters will show up soon, as well as a few OCs, who, hopefully, won't be _too _painful.

        But…will more RK characters show up…? Well, I'll keep that to myself for now, but, be aware, should I get enough of a response to do so, there will be _two _major parts to this. One, here on the _Enterprise_ and the other…heh, heh, you'll have to wait and see. Or, better yet, demand that I write it.

        Although, I don't really know when this fic will next be updated; just know that, if you say you want it, I'll bring it. ^_^

        Ja ne!


	3. A Light Shaded Dream, Part 3

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan**

Sequence One: A Light Shaded Dream, Part Three

        By the end of his shift, Shinta's dark mood and most of his worry had evaporated, mainly due to the sure-to-be-enjoyable event awaiting him. Things had been uneventful in Sickbay, with nothing more serious than a slight allergic reaction to someone's houseplant and his own wounded pride. Even a full workday after the act, Shinta _still _couldn't help wincing when he thought about his 'fender-bender' with Captain Picard that morning.

        "If anyone else was to find out…," Shinta mused in a scandalized tone, seeming to ignore the other crewmembers walking past him. "…sessha would never live it down."

        Once again, violet eyes narrowed and Shinta seriously wondered if he was losing his mind. Or at least having a momentary breakdown. This was just so…crazy. The things that he was saying with familiar frequency and the things that he was doing without even seeming to know he was doing them; all of it pointed to some kind of mental off-balance, but he knew that wasn't the case. What it was exactly, however, was beyond him. A day or so of odd happenings he could easily overlook, but a _week_…

        But, even more harrowing than his lapses in behavior were his too-real dreams. Last night had been the third time for that particular sequence, but there were many others, just as vaguely recalled but known just the same. That was what bothered him the most; dreams might come again and again and again, but he rarely remembered more than a few hazy images and perhaps a feeling or two. The sudden deep sorrow he had felt in the shower was a little less common than the dreams, but unexplainable feelings were also among his worries.

        Sighing, Shinta entered a turbolift, coming out of his reverie long enough to say 'Deck 10', then continued on with his brooding, head lowered and violet eyes focused inward.

        "Something wrong, Shinta-san?"

        At the sound of that unmistakable voice, like cement being ground against cement, Shinta shifted his surprised gaze to the hodgepodge of rock and mineral tucked in a corner of the turbolift.

        "Oro!" Shinta exclaimed without thinking, then grimaced and waved a self-depreciating hand. "I'm sorry, Karhter-kun, I was distracted."

        If the young Horta had been capable of blinking, Shinta supposed he would have. Though Karhter was several Earth years his junior, it was the nature of Horta to mature quickly, although Karhter retained all the curiosity and energy of youth. He and Shinta got along very well and, although the difference between their physical and chemical make-ups was vast, Karhter was an expert at reading Shinta's emotions. And at detecting the odd shift that had occurred a week ago.

        "It's getting worse, isn't it?"

        Shinta looked surprised for a moment, then smiled in a tired way and nodded. "Hai. I can barely even control it any more. For most of my shift I couldn't even refer to Dr. Crusher as 'doctor' and I ended up drinking green tea this morning instead of coffee."

        Karhter made a rough, low sound that Shinta equated with a gag. Understanding though he might have been, the Horta was very outspoken and straightforward when it came to likes and dislikes. And all the foods Shinta ate were certainly not on his list of favorites. Still, his main concern was the worry etched in Shinta's face and not his preference of cuisine.

        "Have you seen Counselor Troi yet?" Karhter asked as he shuffled closer to provide a comforting, if somewhat strange, presence.

        "I've got an appointment for tonight, after the party." Shinta answered and, at the reminder, smiled brightly. "Everything will be ready when we get there, right?"

        "Of course!" Karhter exclaimed happily. "The Ten-Forward's been decorated, everything's been laid out, and your surprise is still in perfect shape, although I don't know how she'll take it…"

        Karhter trailed off and Shinta laughed, catching the humorous tone in his friend's voice. "Hey, just because you don't like it doesn't mean she won't! Anyway, T'Ume will be there in about twenty minutes, so we have to hurry when we get there."

        "I don't think it would be a 'surprise' party if we didn't," Karhter commented wryly and Shinta nudged the horizontal, black/gray/orange lifeform playfully with the tip of his boot. "Hey! It's just an observation…"

        The red-haired man smiled a genuine smile and felt his heart ease slightly. Even with so many dark and unknown things looming over him, Shinta found that they couldn't totally consume him as long as he had his friends with him. It seemed so simple, the solution—albeit a temporary one—to his problem.

        As long as he had someone who cared bout him that he could care for in turn, everything felt as though it would be all right, no matter what.

        _I'll never go back…_

        Shinta was just making his way down the corridor off the turbolift with Karhter at his side when another wave of unidentifiable, frighteningly intense emotion washed over him. However, this time it was an almost overwhelming happiness and relief, a kind of joy that made his heart skip a beat while also making his eyes widen with surprise.

        Joy and…something else. Something dark and hidden, terrible and silent. Something with gleaming amber eyes…

…_to being a…_

"Shinta-san! What is it?!"

"Hey, Karhter, what's wrong with Akimatsu?!"

"I don't know! He just stopped suddenly and now he won't answer me!"

…**_hitokiri_**_…___

Quite suddenly, someone grabbed Shinta by the shoulders and shook his forcibly, jarring him out of the deep, foggy pit had he so easily fallen into. Blinking in confusion, Shinta stared innocently into bright green pools and said:

"Oro?"

"Don't 'oro' me, Akimatsu!" Ensign Jiro Kuronobu shouted directly into his face, pale features more than worried and not a little angry. "Are you alright?!! What just happened?!!!"

"You suddenly went as white as a sheet," a concerned, almost motherly voice put in, Lieutenant Beti Reid standing near the not-so-distant door of the Ten-Forward, a tray of edibles still in her hands. At her side was a younger Ensign, one Karianne Thomas, no more than a year out of the Academy. She had several glasses in her hands, but looked about as upset as Jiro sounded.

Finding himself, quite suddenly, as the center of attention, Shinta stuttered as he attempted to continue. "I…was thinking…"

"**Thinking**?!!" Jiro exclaimed, releasing his hold on Shinta and beginning to pace rapidly, turning back and forth after only two steps due to the smallness of the corridor. "Just _thinking _causes you to blank out in the middle of a hallway? I don't think so."

Before Shinta could stop them, his friends crowded around him, Beti taking the lead as she laid a hand against his forehead. Shinta blushed and found himself unable to point out that, being very nearly a doctor himself, he would be able to recognize if he had a fever.

"Well, you feel normal…," Beti murmured and looked at him directly. It was difficult for Shinta not to look away; even at forty-eight, the short, occasionally imposing woman was just that at this moment; imposing, and, due to his own small stature, slightly taller than him. Although, right now, she seemed to be towering over him. "…but you've been acting so odd lately. Is there anything wrong that you haven't told us about, Shinta-kun?"

"No, I'm…," Shinta trailed off, searching for a decent excuse and finding none. "…a little stressed."

"Yeah, like we'll believe _that_," Jiro scoffed as he came to halt and Kari nodded in agreement. "Well, if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. We don't have much time left to get ready anyway."

Shinta cast a speculative glance at Karhter, half a grin finding its way onto his face. "Hmm…that's funny…a certain someone told me everything was already in order…that he did."

The last part of his sentence was low enough that no one noticed, so only Karhter drew their combined attention.

"Karhter!" Kari yelled in a rare outburst. She might not raise her voice very often, but she did occasionally. But only to Karhter and _that _certainly caused some speculation. "I told you there were still things we needed to do!"

"I was only trying to cheer Shinta-san up!" Karhter hastily replied in defense, shuffling around behind Betty in an attempt to hide. "I swear!!"

"Now, now…," Beti said in an attempt to calm them, though she was fighting to keep from smiling. "We have some more work to do…"

The pair continued arguing without even seeming to notice her and Jiro rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Morons…"

Shinta chuckled softly, that earlier flash of emotion forgotten in light of this more real and welcomed contentment. Still…

…still, he couldn't help the feeling of familiarity that continued to course through him in silent waves; latent, yet strong.

_…never…not as long as I have these friends_

******

        "Ack! Akimatsu, get your butt out of my face!"

        "Ahh, gomen Jiro-san…"

        "What?"

        "…er, I mean sorry."

        "Are you _sure _you told her to come, Kari?"

        "Yeah, when I passed her on Deck 12. She told me she would be here right after she was done in Main Engineering…"

        "Hey, I think I hear her!"

        "Yeah right, Karhter. As if you can hear through a bulkhead."

        "What makes you think I can't, Jiro?"

        "Anou…perhaps we should be quiet?"

        "Really, do you think?"

        Even with all the shuffling and shifting and general confusion taking place between the meager five people trying to hide themselves in the substantial, yet empty, Ten-Forward, they all managed to grow quiet as the doors swished open. It had been incredibly difficult finding a way to have the main lounge all to themselves, but Jiro's persistence, Beti's influence, and Shinta's gentle prodding had eventually gotten the desired result. Sure, it was a little strange having the entire Ten-Forward decorated with streamers and food when it was only a six-person party, but it didn't really matter to them.

        The tall, lithe form of their Vulcan friend entered the lounge with the grace and confidence they had long gotten used to and glanced around with dark, slanted eyes. Even though she showed no outward sign of it, she instantly picked up their nervous movements and, easily maintaining her school expression, waited.

        After maybe a second, five people leapt up from various hiding places, all happily proclaiming, "SURPRISE!!"

        Or at least, most of them did. A pair of young officers who had been crouching around the curve of the counter attempted to jump clear of it, collided with each other, and toppled to the floor, Shinta sprawling over Jiro and repeating 'oro' over and over again.

        Cocking an eyebrow in what might--just might--be taken as an amused manner, T'Ume easily strode over to the struggling pair and glanced down nonchalantly.

        "Do you require assistance?" She asked in a neutral tone, a smile just barely visible in the depths of her eyes. "You seem to be having a problem."

        "And I bet you're loving it, T'Ume," Jiro said sarcastically as he bodily lifted the smaller man off him and deposited Shinta in front of her.

        Shinta sat there for a moment, a blush once more making its way across his face, then jumped to his feet. Once done, he found himself face to face with his Vulcan friend, staring into deep black eyes with a few straight midnight strands framing them, the rest tied back neatly at the nape of her neck.

        "Surprise, T'Ume-dono," Shinta said weakly, finding for once that he didn't care what he added at the end of her name. "We…planned a party."

        "As if she can't see that, genius," Jiro quipped and was rewarded with a smack from Beti. "Hey!"

        "A party?" T'Ume repeated, one eyebrow still raised. "Well, does that mean we should…begin 'partying', as you humans say it?"

        Shinta looked surprised for a moment, but it quickly past and a real, whole-hearted smile broke out on his face.

        _…you don't have to force yourself to smile for me…_

        Quickly brushing that stray whisper aside, Shinta nodded in agreement. "Hai, that would be a good idea, that it would."

        T'Ume tilted her head slightly at his words, but did not question them. As he went around behind the counter of the Ten-Forward bar, Shinta had to admit he was relieved. It was hard enough dealing with his lapses on his own, but he didn't know what he would do if he started worrying T'Ume. Because, despite popular belief, she really _did _worry, especially…

        Gulping suddenly, Shinta almost dropped the large platter in his hands, his surprised 'Oro!' garnering everyone's attention. He quickly regained his hold while still hiding the tray behind the counter and hastily looked somewhere else, choosing the star-streaked windows as his focus. Steadfastly keeping the wash of warp-altered space in his vision, he nervously put the platter on the counter along with several plates. Despite the confident way he had admonished Karhter earlier, he really wasn't sure how T'Ume would like his 'gift'.

        "Anou…," he started out, then inwardly grimaced and took ridged control of his mouth. "I…made this for you, T'Ume…happy sixty-forth birthday."

        The gathered friends, including the Vulcan in question, eyed the large, round, and non-batter cake that Shinta had set out for all of them to see. It certainly wasn't shaped any different from a normal cake, but the icing on top and what they could see of the 'bread' part…well, it wasn't any kind of confection _they _had ever seen.

        "Um…," Kari hesitantly said, not wanting to break the silence but finding that her curiosity was becoming too much for her to handle. "…what is it?"

        Shinta gulped again and stared at one of the nearby chairs while he nervously straightened the front of his uniform.

        "Ahh…it is a tofu cake, that it is."

        "Oh," was all Kari could think of to say, she and the rest of them too awed by the concoction he had laid out to notice his slip of the tongue.

        That is, everyone but T'Ume and, her expression softening the tiniest fraction, she stepped confidently forward and took the slim knife into her hands. The next few seconds were tense, time seeming to slow as a slice was cut, transferred to a plate, and then sectioned off so that a small piece slowly approached the lips of a still-utterly composed Vulcan. Shinta found himself holding his breath as she took a bite and chewed thoughtfully.

        _You…do not approve of the taste…?_

        "Well done, Lieutenant Akimatsu," T'Ume said with a tilt of her head and speared another piece of the cake with her fork. "I was not aware you were such an accomplished cook."

        Shinta was so relieved he almost fell over, but managed to catch himself in time and strode forward to begin passing out pieces of the cake for the others. Except for Karhter, of course. For him, Shinta retrieved another item from under the counter, a smooth cylinder of quartz that the Horta would enjoy. Gaining an approving rumble from his friend as he placed it on the ground, Shinta returned to the bar and took a seat, his own plate of cake in hand.

        "Hey, Akimatsu, this isn't half bad," Jiro exclaimed with some surprise, eliciting the stares of Kari, Beti and Shinta himself. Blinking twice, Jiro seemed to realize what it was that he had said and instantly looked away, expression scandalized. "Especially considering what a scatterbrain you are…"

        "Lieutenant Akimatsu is not 'scatterbrained', as you put it," T'Ume pointed out calmly as she sliced herself another piece and took a sip of the tea she had set nearby. "Several of his colleagues have mentioned his skill in Sickbay and how invaluable his assistance is. He came with the highest regard from the _U.S.S. Hawking _and was in the top fifteen of his graduating class at Starfleet Academy."

        Everyone gave her a look, which she returned with unruffled aplomb. Shinta rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, a smile on his face and in his violet eyes.

        "Ahh…sessha isn't _that _great, that he is not…," Shinta said softly. Even so, they all caught his words this time and, instantly, it became quite again, Karhter and Kari's conversation fading away.

        "You know, Shinta…," Kari started to say, though it was obvious she was trying to find the words. "You've been…acting a little strange ever since _your _party last week…"

        "We're starting to worry," Beti continued for her, the older woman's voice far more confident but just as concerned. "You just haven't been yourself. Is the situation concerning the threat messages the Captain received bothering you?"

        "Hai," Shinta softly allowed, but kept going. "However, not to point where the way I talked changed. I know it's not normal, but there isn't much I can do. I already have an appointment with Counselor Troi later tonight, but, beyond that, I can't think of anything else to try."

        T'Ume opened her mouth as if to say something, but Jiro interrupted before she could get a word out. Shinta suspected that, if the Vulcan was prone to showing emotion, she would have glared angrily at the young human with the odd, light blue/gray hair.

        "Hey, I know something you can try!" Jiro exclaimed, looking proud of himself. "Me and several of the other security officers have a kendo practice session tomorrow. I know you're not too interested in learning something as archaic as swordsmanship, but it _can _help your concentration. Do you think you would want to try?"

        Shinta pondered this a moment, attempting to think over the loud grinding noises of Karhter enjoying his party meal. "Hmm…that might not be such a bad idea. I'm probably going to stink at it, but I still want to give it a shot. Any help getting my mind off this would be great."

        Again, T'Ume opened her mouth to say something, but was this time interrupted by the swish of the doors as another crewmember walked purposefully through. However, said crewmember's steps faltered as he took in the sight of the gathered persons and the singular lack of anyone else.

        "Oro?" Was all that could be heard as a shocked Shinta and his friends stared at an equally surprised Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

******

        Tee, hee, I love surprises. ^_^

        Anyway, this chapter was just a tad longer than the last and, if I keep on going strong, I'll have decently sized sections before you know it. Of course, a little support would be a great help in that area, but it's not like I'm _asking _for it…much. ^_~

        But, on a side note, the species known as the Horta were never _really _established as joining the Federation, but I'm going by Diane Duane's book, _MY Enemy, My Ally_, as a reference. In said fiction, the Horta are indeed part of the Federation _and _Starfleet, so I'm going to go on that thread and assume that there's at least one of the _Enterprise-E_. You just don't see it on the show. ^_~

        Also, I've decided to change the time period of this fiction.  Instead of being after _Star Trek: First Contact, it's going to be **before it.  Why?  Well, I have my reasons…you might know someday, but, for now, it's my secret. ^_~**_

Next time (whenever that may be) has some big developments as a party is attended by a certain starship captain and friends, Shinta has a talk with Troi, and, in the chapter following that, a kendo practice gets a substantial surprise. I'm sure all of you can guess what's going to happen on all accounts, but let's just pretend that you don't and enjoy what's coming, eh?

        Hopefully, I'll see you there!


	4. A Light Shaded Dream, Part 4

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan******

Sequence One: A Light Shaded Dream, Part Four

        For several stunned moments, neither subordinates nor captain made a move, the doors of Ten-Forward swishing shut behind the staring Picard with a low, almost laughing whoosh. That accomplished, the _Enterprise-E _continued on her merry way at a cruising warp factor five, oblivious to the unusual phenomenon of her commanding officer barging in on what was supposed to be a private affair.

        After a good two minutes had passed, Shinta found himself shoved to the fore by a half-amused, half-afraid Ensign Jiro Kuronobu. In the background, Kari and Karhter were giving the unsettled Lieutenant whispered words of encouragement while Beti and T'Ume wisely stood to the side and said nothing.

        _Why me?! _Shinta frantically thought before he was at the head of their little group and the captain, having regained his composure, strode purposefully towards them as if he had a reason to be there. Which he didn't, but it wasn't as though any of them were going to point that out.

        The two men meeting halfway across the room, Picard eyed the young officer from this morning expectantly, at his most captainly while at the same time trying to remember if he had been sent a notice about this on his ship's calendar. In the meantime, Shinta was attempting to look composed and _not _blush at the memory of what he had done earlier that day.

        After clearing his throat several times, Shinta finally managed to speak. "Your arrival is…most unexpected, Captain. Do you require anything of us?"

        "No, not at all…," Captain Picard began in an even voice, making a rapid mental search to locate a decent reason for him barging in on his crewmembers' obviously private affair. "It is just that I…like to take note of what my crew does in their spare time."

        All of them stared at him with blank expressions (except for the only Horta crewmember, of course), but at least they didn't show any sign of disbelief. His confidence growing, Picard went on in what might be taken as a congenial tone. Troi and Riker would no doubt tease him royally when they found out about this, but he would do his utmost to make sure that they didn't.

        "Since I find that most of my officers don't approach me with their requests, I have to see for myself what might need to be changed or added to the ship's off-duty options." Picard finished with as much a smile as he could manage, feeling the fool but hiding it with the ease of a seasoned politician. He _was _a starship captain, after all.

        "Ahh…so that is the case," Shinta responded almost too brightly, just as eager to save face as Captain Picard. After this morning, they shared a kind of hidden bond when it came to sweeping embarrassing events under the carpet; already, they were becoming accomplished partners at it. "Well, a birthday celebration is always something to plan, regardless of schedules, although…sometimes our shift times don't match the agendas for such parties."

        "Hmm, then would you suggest a note be taken of all annual birthdays of the crew?" Picard asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while trying to think of a graceful exit. With as intelligent a young man as Shinta, it now seemed entirely possible; although, with how they had met earlier, he wouldn't have thought so. However, he was getting the strangest impression that he and the Lieutenant were not so different. In what way, he wasn't sure, but he knew it just the same.

        "That would help considerably," Shinta allowed, breathing a sigh of relief as his friends hesitantly resumed eating and talking. Slowly, they were adjusting to having their commanding officer present among them; no small feat, considering it was _Captain Jean-Luc Picard _that Shinta was so easily conversing with. Although…the captain wasn't quite so intimidating when he was discussing birthdays with a smaller man who didn't look like he was over twenty. "But maybe only those that wish to celebrate them."

        Picard nodded, finding that his nerves were gradually relaxing. He had been growing awfully tense over the last few days and a little time to himself didn't seem like such a bad idea. When simply talking with a crewmember over non-official things soothed him, Picard knew it was time to take a break. Perhaps a little fencing practice tomorrow while there was still time for a little R and R… "Well, I shall take that into account. Thank you for your input, Lieutenant Akimatsu."

        Shinta smiled brightly. "My pleasure, Sir!"

        With that, Picard sauntered casually out, feeling very good about himself. Watching him go, Shinta felt very good about himself as well. He had managed to defuse a potentially embarrassing situation of biblical proportions, but, along with that, he hadn't spoken strangely or had some sort of fit the entire time! Maybe he was getting better…Sighing and smiling at the same time, he turned to his friends.

        "Ahh, that went well," he breathed, picking up his plate of cake. "But thanks so much for electing me to be the one to talk to him."

        "It was a good idea, though," Jiro commented as he took a gulp of his synthesized brandy. Once done, he glanced at Shinta with sly eyes and the red-haired man couldn't help but surreptitiously gulp. "But…how did he know your name?" 

        Shinta's eyes got very wide and he rubbed the back of his head, looking at everything but the keen, bright green gaze of his friend. "Anou…maybe he just knows his crewmembers very well?"

        "Lieutenant Akimatsu is very recognizable for a human," T'Ume calmly commented, much to everyone's surprise. "It is understandable that the captain, seeing him in the halls and hearing him called by name, would recall who he is."

        "I suppose…," Jiro muttered, not entirely convinced, but let it go, drifting over to Kari, Beti, and Karhter.

        Once again, Shinta breathed a sigh of relief and sat down at the bar next to T'Ume. She hardly batted an eyelash as he did so, but he got the feeling that she was keenly aware of his presence. That always seemed to be the case, anyway…

        "Arigato, T'Ume-dono," Shinta said softly under his breath, no longer bothering to control the way he spoke. It didn't seem to bother her and, oddly enough, beneath his anxiety over causing her undue concern, he _wanted _her help. That is, if she was willing to offer it…"That could have easily lost me my reputation, that it could."

        "Perhaps," T'Ume allowed and, as Shinta looked up, she met his violet eyes squarely. "What is the true reason the captain knew your name?"

        A hint of red gathering on his cheeks, Shinta answered, "Ahh…this morning, I…ran into him."

        "Ran into?" T'Ume repeated. "Explain."

        "Well…," Shinta gulped, then decided to just go for it. He knew T'Ume wasn't the kind to let something go once she was determined to know. "…more like knocked him over."

        In a rare display, T'Ume's eyebrow shot up at what seemed to be full impulse speed, a genuine look of surprise on her face before she quickly schooled her expression once more. "So that is the case…he did not appear to be aggravated with you, however."

        Running a hand through gleaming red strands, Shinta smiled. "And when did you become proficient at reading human emotions?"

        As always, T'Ume was ready with an answer. "The lack of such things results in them being easy to discern."

        "Occasionally…," Shinta said softly as he smiled, something in the nature of his expression altering slightly. "…but not always."

        _"Your way of thinking is all wrong, Mr. Himura…"_

There was silence between them for several moments, the only sound the background banter of their friends. Finally, T'Ume spoke.

        "Do you think there is more to this condition of yours than there seemed to be at first?"

        Somehow, Shinta wasn't surprised by her question. Instead, he simply continued to stare off somewhere into the distance, the color and emotion in his violet eyes somehow flatter and more steely than before. "…yes. As much as I wish it wasn't so, I think this isn't something that I will just be able to 'get over' any time soon."

        "Is there nothing we can do?"

        Shinta was caught by something in her voice, a hint of inflection that was barely discernable, and he blinked several times, turning to look at her. Thusly, the Vulcan could easily catch the odd shift in the color of his eyes, light filtering back in so that they were a bright lilac once more.

        He, of course, could not discern this, but, even if he'd had a mirror, he still probably wouldn't have noticed. For her sentence had translated a little differently in his mind…

        _"Is there nothing **I **can do?"_

        For a while, he simply looked at her, the Vulcan easily returning the favor. Then, like the coming of the dawn, a true smile--a surprising second one for that day--crept across his face.

        "If there is, I will be sure to tell you…that I will."

******

        It was a little over an hour later when Shinta nervously walked into Troi's office, ushered in by the Counselor's kind voice. The office was pleasant enough, obviously meant to be comfortable and soothing for any occupant. The _Enterprise-E _version was streamlined with the same colors as the rest of the ship, but Troi had added several items of decoration to emphasize a more habitable and 'homey' interior. Plants, a few works of art, furniture of more rounded design rather than the straighter polygonal build of most Starfleet issue.

        Even so, his breathing was a tad irregular and he couldn't keep his violet gaze from flickering around nervously.

        Troi felt like shaking her head, as she saw this all the time, but refrained with the ease of seasoned practice. She _was _a trained professional, after all. And besides, she knew it was difficult for a person, no matter who they were, to openly face their problems. Not only that, but she had gotten the impression that Lieutenant Akimatsu's problem was a little different and, perhaps, more serious than most of the other's she had worked with, save a few.

        "Care to have a seat?" Troi gently asked, gesturing to the blue/gray couch next to her chair. "Then we can get started."

        "Okay," Shinta said with a shaky smile, taking a careful seat on the edge of the couch. Troi glanced at him askance, her own smile kind and a little amused. Shinta blinked once.

        "If you want, you can lay down," Troi offered congenially. "Sometimes, that makes it easier for people to talk, especially if they're not looking directly at any one thing."

        "Hmm, I see your point," Shinta conceded and lay back, putting a hand behind his head. "So…where do we begin?"

        "Well, you can start by telling me what has been happening to you recently," Troi suggested. "Dr. Crusher informed me of some of the behavior you've been exhibiting recently, but would you mind giving me the details."

        "No, not at all," Shinta replied and, taking a deep breath, began. "It was hardly perceivable at first. The day after my twenty-eighth birthday last week, they way I spoke just…began to change. You've heard me several times now; the different ways I'll string my sentences together, the extra phrases I'll add at the end. To my knowledge, there's no human who says 'that I will' simply for the enjoyment of it."

        Troi raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you do?"

        "No, I…," Shinta started to answer, then trailed off. "Actually…when I think about it, I…like doing that. It bothers me that I started speaking that way so suddenly and so…naturally, but I'm soothed by it. I don't know why, or how, but it reminds me of…"

        Shinta stopped again, unable to find the words. The answer had been hovering at the edge of his mind, his perception, then just suddenly faded away again. He hadn't really realized that, annoyed and worried as he was, there was _something _creeping so close and, on some level, he _wanted _it. Then again, the majority of his heart…feared it more than anything.

        Troi caught all these emotions flitting through his mind, the want and the anxiety and his fear. Also, there were other things, things he himself couldn't quite perceive. Just as he suspected, there _was _something else in his mind, a portion blocked off that she couldn't force her way into without exerting a great deal of mental energy. Not only that, but such an action would cross one of the barriers she had set for herself concerning her duty and her ethics.

        So, for now, she would stick to the tried and true method of counseling…talk.

        "It's alright if you can't answer that yet," Troi said with a smile. "Is there anything else besides the way you've been speaking?"

        "My dreams," Shinta answered softly and, pausing only a moment, went on. "I know they're more than just normal dreams. I've been having the same ones, over and over. I might not remember much of them, but I know that they repeat. And what I've seen…it's so real, at least while I'm dreaming it. Sometimes, it feels like I'm awake."

        Shinta's eyes were distant, and, as he spoke, the color in them seemed to grow flat, his voice changing to almost a monotone as he began to tell her of the clearest of all the dreams. It was the only one he remembered the entirely of, the only one he hadn't spoken of…to anyone.

        "I'm not actually 'living' this dream; it is more like I am watching it happen from somewhere in the distance. Even so, I can see everything perfectly; I see…myself, but I'm not myself, either. The person I see…he's much younger than I am now, no more than fourteen. And the clothing he's wearing is from late 19th century Japan, perhaps sometime directly before or after the beginning of the Meiji era. I checked the ship's database, just to be sure."

        "I'm…_he's _with other humans dressed in the same manner, though older than him. They're all gathered outside, in an agricultural field of the style prominent during that time period. It's raining, but they're still training, no matter how hard the shower gets."

        "Training?" Troi asked, her concentration growing. Shinta hardly blinked at her question, though she knew he had heard her. She wasn't offended by it; he was focusing so much on his dream that she could practically see the images in her own mind. He was almost projecting what he had seen and, as she received it, Troi couldn't help but suspect that there really was more to this than they thought.

        "All of them are practicing against targets stuffed with straw tied to large poles. They're using padded staves against the targets, striking again and again, not seeming to care about the rain. But I'm…I'm not using a stave. I use…a sword."

        And Troi felt such a wave of emotion from him that she was almost overwhelmed by it. Fear, anger, denial, joy, love, sorrow, loss, _regret_; everything came tumbling out of him in that single moment, a second when his eyes flashed amber. Then they were violet again, though considerably less bright than the counselor had grown used to.

        _Troi__ heard a name…_

        "It's my turn and I always seem to drift closer to watch," Shinta continued, unaware of the momentary change in himself. "And…I've never seen a human handle a sword like that. I'm only fourteen, but I'm able to cut through a dummy target nearly a foot thick with one strike of the sword. Everyone stares at me, at the sword in my hand and the pieces on the ground. Then, this man calls to me…"

        Shinta swallowed, something unwanted flickering through his expression. Troi caught in increased nervousness in him, the denial; he was very, very reluctant to say this, to…admit to it? He was scared of it, even a little disgusted, and certainly ashamed. But he also felt that he _needed _to tell someone, that, maybe, if he could share the secret with another person it might weigh a little less heavily upon him.

        "We go into a nearby hut, out of the rain, to talk. I'm watching myself, so young, and I start to yell at him. I just _know _what's about to happen is going to lead to tragedy. I…I keep trying to stop him, to tell him that it's wrong, but I seem to be frozen in place. Every time, I listen helplessly as the man says that he won't lie to me, that he needs my help to create this new world."

        Troi sensed another crest of emotion coming, a rolling thunder that dwelled deep inside. There were no names this time, only a wave of the deepest sorrow she had ever known. Other things rolled in behind it, happiness and laughter, comfort and caring, but all of it was second to this terrible, soul-deep…pain.

        "He tells me he wants me to kill for him."

******

        It was shortly after that when Troi suggested Shinta get some rest. The strain of telling her of his dreams was evident in his expression and slumping posture, but she felt somewhat relieved as he bade her goodnight and stepped out the door. By the time he had finished and they had sat in silence for a few moments, the color in his eyes and returned to normal, although his expression had been terribly sad.

        And she didn't blame him in the least. What she had felt…such emotions and turmoil were so rare, even on a starship, constantly on edge with your life in danger more often than not. Troi had only sensed that kind of anguish from one other person…it was still so easy to recall Picard's time after he had been rescued from the Borg collective. And there was still a great deal of trauma within him that he had yet to face, though Troi knew he would, eventually.

        Instead, she now had Lieutenant Akimatsu to worry about and, quite definitely, she was worried. His problems went deeper than just buried stress or overwork. A lot deeper.

        Her brows furrowing, Troi tapped the combadge on her chest.

        "Troi to Commander Data."

        "Yes, Counselor?" Came the response over the link, the android operations manager Data sounding just as crisp and focused and cheerful as always. It was almost enough to bring a smile to her face, though not quite.

        "Data, could you please look into something for me?"

        "Of course, Counselor. What do you need?"

        "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I want you to research a name."

        "Certainly. What would that name be?"

        "Himura. Kenshin Himura."

******

        Well, things are certainly progressing, no? But, don't expect Shinta's secret to be revealed right away. There's still a lot to come until the truth will out and certain people's lives change forever. However, like I said, that's not happening too awfully soon.

        Instead, expect a kendo practice session next time, as well as more fun with Picard and a few more _Star Trek _characters. There's a bit more, but I'd rather not say anything for fear of giving stuff away. Oh, and if you would like to know background on certain aliens and miscellaneous information (as I can't work some of the explanations in without upsetting the flow of the story) I advise you to visit the _Star Trek _website, which is just startrek.com. Or, if not , there are many, MANY fan-run sites out there with just as much information, if not more.

        But, if you want to, feel free to ask me for specific information and I'll provide as best I can. 

Also, this story will be moved to the _Rurouni Kenshin _section of FF.net come next chapter, so, if you're waiting for it, either go there or check my account to find it.

        That said, I'll see ya next time, whenever that might be. But, until then, live long and prosper! ^_^


	5. A Light Shaded Dream, Part 5

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan**

Sequence One: A Light Shaded Dream, Part Five

        _"I have you now, Battousai the Manslayer!"_

_        Shinta stopped short, that name rushing through him in a flash of familiarity, a tingle of recognition that was impossible to miss. Not only that, but he had never dreamed this sequence before. A stroll through ancient Japan...fog misty around him, his old-style sandals scraping against the dusty road. Low, well-worn buildings surrounded him, the roofs tilted and tiled, barely visible through the haze._

_        Though his attention was currently elsewhere, Shinta had already taken note of his odd clothing, of which the sandals were among. A traditional hakama was tied around his waist, long and loose in a white just barely bordering on fog gray. The kimono, large, squared sleeves enveloping his arms, was a questionable pink, closer to magenta than anything and tucked into the hakama. He felt a curious weight at the back of his head and felt every so often the brush of bunched strands against his lower back. A ponytail and a considerable one at that, if the mass of bangs framing his face and falling into his eyes were any kind of indicator._

_        And there was another curious weight at his hip, not at all unlike…a scabbard?        Shinta very much wanted to investigate these strange conditions, but was unable to do anything but turn his head towards that young, almost angry voice, a single murmured word escaping his lips._

_        "Oro?"_

_        It was then that he saw her. For some reason, her fall of midnight hair, caught up in a high, elegant tail, and the smooth, cream-colored, overall healthy expanse of her skin were of no surprise to him. He felt as though he knew them, had seen them for days upon days. And her eyes...a dark blue/green, a shade off from the customary teal of his uniform. Such intensity he knew, a drive that he somehow expected even as he was riddled with surprise at his confidence in it. Although, the wooden sword she had pointed his way did not bode well for him. As much as he knew her, it was obvious that he was about to know a great deal more, especially if she started beating him into the ground with her sword._

She knows it well_...he thought idly, then inwardly started. How did he know anything of stance or technique or even how to judge such things by just looking? He didn't..._

_        ...no, he **did**._

_        "At last I found you!" The girl cried, shifting her sword to one hand in preparation. "Although, you're much weaker-looking than I thought you would be!!"_

_        "Oro!" Shinta found himself exclaiming, his eyes widening while he cursed himself and his rebellious vocal cords. How annoying that was getting!_

_        At the same time, another part of his mind pondered as to how far this was going to go. If only the girl would get a bit closer, then maybe...maybe he could remember who she was. That knowledge, that lifeline almost, seemed to be the most important thing. Even with the feelings he already knew in regards to her, he had to know more. It was an irrational, painful need, and a realization he hadn't been aware of but had felt all the time._

_        Somehow, someway, he had lost something precious and he wanted it back so much, but..._

_        "Still, prepare yourself!!" The girl continued, oblivious to his inner trepidation. Abruptly, she broke into a run, grasping the hilt of her sword with two hands. "Hyyaahh!"_

_        ...but he was scared, too. So scared..._

_        Shinta's gaze, though still wide, was no longer that of a deer in headlights. Instead, he was only mildly surprised and a portion of his mind he hadn't known existed quickly calculated how long it would take her to reach him, the probable direction of her swing, and how little effort he needed to expend to avoid it. This all occurred in a matter of seconds and Shinta felt himself crouch slightly to ready for a jump._

_        He gave her one last, longing look and--_

--and the scene abruptly changed, the warm, moist fog snapping into something even more familiar--

_        It was cold. Terribly cold. And he couldn't see anything, save for the glare of white and red against his vision, his eyes blinded by an intense residual flash on his cornea. It could lead to permanent blindness if not treated quickly, his medical training told him, but that was hardly the point. Instead, every part of himself, save for the confused, increasingly frightened Starfleet officer, was focused on his headlong charge, a sword heavy in his hand while weak, trembling legs pumped with their last strength through the snow._

_        Shinta had maybe a second to wonder what was happening, then such a torrent of emotion took him over that he was mentally gasping and straining beneath the weight of it, all concerns and fears and semblance of reality driven away by the force that tumbled against his unprepared heart._

_        **PainguiltfearangerregretbetrayalsorrowanguishLOVE**--_

_        And, unable to stop what was coming, what he KNEW was coming, though he (who was he? who was he? who was he? Shinta-Shinta-Shinta-**Kenshin**-) fought with all his heart, he brought his trembling sword down in a horizontal strike, feeling the drag of flesh and bone as the blade connected. There was a horrible, horrible sound, one he would remember the rest of his life, and his injured eyes snapped wide, seeing so clearly what he had done._

_        --**loveshockdenialagonydespair**_...loss_._

_        He almost saw who it was that he brought death screaming down upon, but, once more, the scene abruptly shifted and, instead of who he knew it would be, it was another who fell to the scattered, broken snow beside him. When he looked, the blood that had spilled forth to stain his arms and hands belonged the girl with the blue/green eyes, gazing at him with understanding and love…_

Kaoru…

_        "Welcome home…**Kenshin**."_

******

        Shinta knew there were tears on his face as he gradually awoke. He knew it, though he hardly believed it. Carefully sitting up in his bed, Shinta raised a still-trembling hand to brush against the moisture he found on his cheek. This was too much. It was just…too much. Even as he took a disparaging note of the time—once again, about fifteen minutes before his wake-up call—Shinta realized that he couldn't let these dreams continue. Not without figuring out what they were.

        And it wasn't just a matter of doing it to keep his performance regular. He had to know what they meant. He _had _to.

        Speaking with Counselor Troi last night had done both good and bad. By telling her of his dreams the weight upon his heart and conscience was lessened and the hope that all this might be sorted out allowed him to breathe a little easier. But, getting one dream loose in his mind had led to the arrival of another, and perhaps more to come. A floodgate had been opened, one that was hard to see or hear but felt just the same, and Shinta was almost…afraid of what was coming.

        Violet eyes distant and dark, he gazed down at his pale, slender hands; surgeon's hands, so many people told him, but…but why did he see blood there? Shinta had dedicated his life to medicine and to experience something that told him over and over that he…that he _killed _was almost unbearable. What did it mean? What were his dreams trying to accomplish?

        And what if…what if they were real?

        "That's nonsense," Shinta said softly to himself, one part of his mind believing it while the other remained skeptical. "How can this be real? It is just so impossible…"

        Then again…perhaps not. So many things thought impossible had been proven otherwise in the last few centuries. Time travel, multiple dimensions, even omniscient beings…wouldn't somehow true dreams pale in comparison to things such as those? If so, what did that mean for him? Was there really a vein of reality in what he experienced each night? If so, what was he supposed to do about them?

        How was he supposed to accept a realm where he committed murder?

        "I can't," he admitted softly, standing and walking towards the shower. "I just can't. Sessha would not kill anyone…" 

        Shinta sighed as he slipped out of his night wear, pale skin seeming to glow in the artificial light. Adding to his problems was the almost duality of what he was experiencing. Sometimes, the dreams and feelings would be so horrific or dark that he could hardly stand them—tonight's being a very good example—but other times…it felt as though he was experiencing the life of a completely different person. The way he spoke certainly wasn't how a killer would speak and the lightheartedness, the near happiness, were not the kinds of things a murderer would feel.

        Although…_guilt_ remained a constant no matter the extremes.

        Looking up into the mirror, Shinta felt his own heart turning and twisting in confusing circles, a tangled maze of hazy emotion and lingering recognition that seemed to have no end. He was an officer in Starfleet, did his duty proudly to protect and continue the peace of the Federation. He had a hard-won rank in the Medical division and did his utmost to preserve the lives and health of those he served with and any who needed it. But somehow…

        "…I feel as though this is not what I am supposed to be doing," Shinta murmured, gazing almost sadly back at the face in the mirror, identical to his save for the long, flaming hair and the crossed-shaped scar on one cheek. "But, if not this, then what…?"

******

        "Hey, Akimatsu, you made it!" Jiro exclaimed happily as a slightly wary Shinta stepped into the holodeck, which was currently programmed to produce a traditional Japanese dojo with a matching pond and blooming sakura tree beyond the open doors. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

        "I had a few extra things to do in Sickbay," Shinta replied, feeling terribly out of place in his uniform while the dozen or so crewmembers were dressed in traditional garb. Although, with the research he'd been doing lately and the dreams he'd been having, he could recognize every garment. "But I still have a little time, right?"

        "Of course!" Jiro replied happily and grabbed Shinta by the arm. "But first you have to match the atmosphere!"

        A few seconds later, Shinta found himself feeling incredibly comfortable clad in a white hakama and faded blue kimono. Not only was the fabricated material pleasantly soft while remaining durable, there was a familiarity to the garb that surprised and unsettled him. But, as he had seen, the dreams and feelings were so frequent now that they were affecting his day to day life. And feeling good in odd clothing was certainly better than some of the other things he'd been experiencing, so he let it pass.

        Although…the wooden sword handed to him didn't feel as right as all the rest. He just…wasn't used to the feel.

        _Just listen to yourself, Shinta, _he berated himself silently, waiting patiently while Jiro got the rest of the group together. _You've never held a sword before in your life, so how can you be used to _anything_? Even if you live it in your dreams…_

"Okay everybody, we have a guest today," Jiro announced in a very commanding manner, prompting snickers from the various crewmembers and one gruff "HAH!" from an Andorian lieutenant. Jiro gave all of them what Shinta had labeled 'The Look' and continued, in a slightly annoyed tone of voice. "He's a _friend _of mine, Lieutenant Akimatsu. He's here to work off a little stress, so play nice, okay?"

        "Yeah, whatever you say!" One handsome young woman cast a flirtatious glance Shinta's way from beneath abundant brunette curls and the older—though it wasn't apparent—man began to blush.

        "Do not worry, they have a habit of bantering a good twenty minutes before practice," a low, almost purring voice behind Shinta said and, somewhat surprised, he turned, violet eyes going up to meet an astonishing emerald pair with slitted pupils. Shinta had long grown used to the unusual shade of green in Jiro's eyes; although his, while bright with his customary, aggressive energy, were still a dark, jade tone, _this _crewman accomplished a light-washed color while still appearing to be calm, cool, and distinctively untouchable.

        _…I…I know_ _you…_

        Shinta stared a few moments, then jerked where he stood, and, a blush still on his face, offered his hand. "Ahh, thanks for telling me, I can never really tell…I'm—"

        "Lieutenant Akimatsu," the other replied, nodding his head and taking Shinta's hand firmly in his own black-furred one. At once, Shinta knew this to be the only Caitian crewmember onboard, an unusually tall young felinoid completely covered in night black fur, an irregularity in his species, along with those green eyes. He resembled very much a panther with a human shape and an almost-human face, accompanied by a fall of straight, midnight hair reaching to his mid-back but neatly combed so that the strands were pulled back from his sculpted feline face without puffing, as they did in most Caitians. Adding to his idiosyncratic appearance were the strong, slender fingers on his hands, whereas his species usually had more paw-like appendages. He was clothed in the same traditional Japanese garments as the rest of the group, but alterations had been made to the hakama to accommodate the long, moderately tufted tail that swung slowly back and forth behind him, as well as the fact that his knees bent ever-so-slightly backwards.

        And, although Shinta had never spoken with this crewmember before, he couldn't help the feeling that he knew him…somehow.

        _We shall at last finish this, Battousai…_

_        …who are you?_

"I am Lieutenant-Commander M'Rath, although I have been given a…designation for these sessions. Kioshi will do."

        Shinta grinned, feeling himself relax. M'Rath, or rather, Kioshi gave the tiniest smile Shinta had ever seen and gestured around them, while still managing to look totally distant and unruffled. "This simulation was created through research in ancient Japanese culture on Terra and, now that the errors have been corrected, it is historically accurate."

        "Did you program this?" Shinta inquired just before Jiro walked up.

        "He sure did!" Jiro said happily, beaming at Kioshi, who only gazed back with a reserved aplomb that reminded Shinta very much of T'Ume. "And he's not even with any of the more technical parts of Operations! He might not look it, but he's Security all the way. As a matter of fact, I hear he's being considered to head Security now that Commander Worf is going to remain over at Deep Space Nine. That's pretty good, considering he's only twenty-six!"

        Kioshi gave Jiro a look that clearly said 'continue at your own risk' and, cracking a grin at his accomplished mission, Jiro sauntered to the front of the group. Though Shinta didn't have much time to ponder this before the session started, he was a little amazed. Not only did Caitians usually prefer not to fight (but they could and very well at that), Shinta would have thought Kioshi would have returned to his home world to raise a family, or at least visit his own. Caitians had very close family ties, to the point where littermates would often follow the eldest on whatever path in life they chose. So, Shinta had to wonder, where was Kioshi's family? Still, from what Shinta could tell, this man was a born leader, though he seemed so quiet and composed.

        _He's just so familiar…_

        "Alright, we'll be dividing into pairs again today," Jiro said to the group and Shinta refocused his attention. "Keep your sparring basic and those of you I haven't spoken to yet stick to your standard level moves and stances while I get Akimatsu up to speed. Kioshi, keep an eye on them, alright?"

        "Certainly, Ensign. I will _watch _them."

        Jiro and Shinta, as well as just about everybody else, gave Kioshi a pointed look, one that he hardly noticed. Had he just made a joke? It certainly _sounded _like he had put an odd emphasis on his words…But, even from watching him in the span of five minutes, Kioshi didn't seem like the type to joke; quite the opposite, actually. Deadly seriousness appeared to be his natural state of mind.

        In the end, Jiro simply shook his head, waved a go-ahead to the others and strode over to Shinta, continuing to shake his head slightly as Kioshi walked by. "Sometimes I wonder about him…anyway, so you've never done anything like this before?"

        "Never," Shinta answered, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind that said otherwise. "So…can we start from the top?"

        "Sure," Jiro replied and stood next to Shinta, holding his sword out in front of him. "Now, hold the hilt double-handed, like I am and place your feet apart just about the length of your shoulders. This is the most basic stance you can take. Just about everybody, from every school, starts out like this."

        "So, do you teach different techniques here?" Shinta asked, mimicking his friend's body position with ease.

        "That's good," Jiro said to his movements and nodded. "Yes. The ship's computer has files on different swordstyles and we can learn from them. But, sometimes, it would really better if we could get an actual master here to teach. Programs might be good, but nothing speaks like experience. Or talent."

        Shinta raised a brow. "Talent? So there are those of you already good before you even start?"

        Jiro smiled, albeit a little egotistically. "You bet. Kioshi and I started these sessions together, but the both of us were naturals from the beginning anyway. We were both amazed by it at first, although you can hardly tell with Kioshi."

        "I would think so."

        "Definitely," Jiro responded. "Anyway, the easiest and most efficient way to practice—along with the best way to avoid getting battered _too _badly—is just a simple downward stroke over and over again. I know that sounds odd, but, even in that small movement, you can see who's been practicing and who hasn't. As a matter of fact…watch those two over there and you'll see what I mean."

        Shinta, glancing towards the pair, had to admit to Jiro's point. It was the Andorian male and young human woman from before and, going against what Shinta would have thought, the blue-skinned Andorian was having problems. He would perform the downward stroke Jiro had described, but it was easy to see the flaws. The movements of his hands and feet weren't synchronized and his shoulders were too loose. It gave him an overall jerky appearance, not smooth and quick like it should have been. The woman was coaching him, though it was obvious she was getting exasperated very quickly. Shinta heard Jiro sigh.

        "I think I'd better go over there," the younger man said resignedly. "I hope you don't mind, Akimatsu, but those two have got some serious tempers and we don't need _another _fight."

        "It's alright with me," Shinta replied with a smile. "I'll just practice a bit on my own."

        "Okay, be back in a minute," with that, Jiro walked quickly away, voice already rising in a reprimand. After watching him a moment, Shinta looked down at the sword in his hand, a contemplative expression on his face.

        _It doesn't seem too difficult_, he mentally coached himself, positioning his body in the stance that, somehow, he already knew by heart. _But it does feel…old._

        Finding that he didn't wanted to travel down that train of thought, Shinta simply moved his body instead, a sharp, quick swish of displaced air whispering around him. He actually didn't see the sword move, but he attributed that to how he was unconsciously keeping his eyes unfocused. By trusting the other people to maintain their distance, Shinta concentrated instead on not thinking about anything at all, be it his movements, his placements, or the fragmented memories that were constantly murmuring through his heart and mind.

        _It's so familiar…but from where? How? **Why…?**_

        Again, he moved, less aware of it than before and, letting his mind sink deeper into a calm, level pool without distraction, he did so again, hardly noticing the sharp crack of sound that his weapon created. Somehow, it didn't really matter anymore. Instead, staying in that smooth, cool pond of freed thought was foremost in his heart. So, he didn't even realize it as he went beyond the basic stroke, doing it once, then taking a step forward with an upward, one-handed strike. From there, curving down and around back to the bottom. Each one was performed with ever-increasing speed and precision, Shinta rapidly changing from a nervous and unknowledgeable novice to a master of incredible skill and almost frightening ability.

        _I was…I was taught…so I could be strong…so I could go on living…_

_        They died for me…I lived for them…_

_        "Kenshin!"_

Then, he reached a particular point in his calm center, finding a sequence of movements so familiar that Shinta couldn't help what he did next. Although, he was distantly aware of the true, undeniable knowledge that accompanied it.

        _Hiten Mitsurugi Style…_

There were several gasps and the scrambled dodging of many persons and, quite suddenly, scared violet eyes snapping wide, Shinta became perfectly aware of what he was doing. However, it was far, far too late to stop it, as he knew, deep within his own heart, that it was already done. He might have been lucky that no one was near enough to get seriously hurt, but the images and the awareness in his mind, as well as the involuntary words that he spoke, were like the tolling of a death bell, the very last sign of a coming nightfall.

        _I…I'm not…who I think I am…_

        "Dou Ryuu Sen!" A confident, oddly accented voice quite different from his own yelled out into the holodeck, the wooden sword coming down with amazing, inhuman strength and speed upon the simulated wood floor.

        But, instead of shattered boards and a rain of splinters, that entire section of the holographically-altered floor fizzled, sparked violently, and went out, chunks of metal and circuitry, as well as several broken pieces of his wooden sword, flying in all directions as sizable bolts of electricity flared up and went down. Shinta heard over a dozen people cry out and felt several large shards embed themselves in his legs and arms, the shock and pain and _fear _coursing through him in one unstoppable wave.

        _But, if not me…then who? Who am I?_

        _"I am a wanderer…"_

Several shocked voices called out 'End program!', thusly causing the rest of the simulation to blink out of existence, leaving only the black and yellow grid of the holodeck visible. Save for the several meters-wide hole in the middle, of course, still sparking and sputtering and smoking over many tiny bursts of fire. But, by that time, Shinta was already out the door, the useless, stunted hilt of the sword flung aside in desperation and disgust, small droplets of blood marking where he had gone.

        _Who am I?!!_

Unable to think, unwilling to comprehend or accept what had just happened, Shinta made a headlong flight down the hall, not knowing where he was going but wanting to be anywhere but here. To be anyone but this confused, frightened person with a dark, dark shadow lingering deep inside.

        **_Who?!!!_**

        Unbeknownst to him, two pairs of green eyes, one with slitted pupils and the other with bluish-gray hair falling forward to cover it, watched him go, each containing hints of surprise, confusion, worry, amazement, and…recognition.

******

Whoo, chew on that! I know I said there would be more Star Trek characters this chapter, but I just couldn't help myself. And, as you can see, things are coming to a head and rather quickly at that. This section of parts (you know, chapters with the same title) will be ending soon, but the story is far from over! There's still more in store for Shinta and for the _Enterprise _crew. ^_^

        Although, hopefully, everybody remembered that I would be moving this fic to the RK section…I really would hate for someone to miss a chapter…^_~

        Oh yeah, something I've been meaning to say. As you might have noticed, Shinta keeps moving between Japanese words and their English translation (example: hitokiri and manslayer), but there _is _an explanation for this, although one you might not have thought of. In the ST universe, practically everybody on Earth now speaks in Federation Basic (not sure exactly what it is, but that's what they speak). So, when Shinta uses Japanese words, he's actually speaking a different language than most of Japan! What's happening is his past memories are taking over for a moment, making him think or say something that's not in Federation Basic. However, as he progresses in his 'state', the translations automatically appear in his mind or words, as if his past memories are adjusting to the new times…which says something for Shinta, no?

        The one exception to this is the 'that it is' and 'de gozaru' phrases added at the end of sentences. I use the English versions simply because I don't know all the forms for the Japanese ones (i.e. de gozaru yo, de gozaru ka, etc.). Plus, I have a peculiar fondness for the English ones…^_~

        That, and it's easier to graft English dependant clauses to English sentences (AP English III is really getting to me…o_O). Anyway, next time (whenever that will be) has more of Shinta (duh) and I _will _get to at least two new ST characters. Not only that, but the _Enterprise _comes under attack. I'll see ya then!

        Oh, and Live Long and Prosper!! ^_^

        (*Does Vulcan salute with BOTH hands, then runs to PS2, screaming giddily, "Rides the shoopuf?!!"*)

P.S. _FFX-2 _now rules my life and probably will continue to do so until I get the Perfect Ending or KH2 comes out.


	6. As It Has Always Been, Part 1

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan**

Sequence Two: As It Has Always Been, Part One

        "How did this happen, Shinta?" Beverly Crusher asked in a shocked tone as her favorite subordinate staggered into sickbay, clothed in something totally different from uniform standard and with a small trail of blood spread out behind him. The red-haired man was breathing heavily and she had never seen him look so…so _scared_. "Is there an intruder?"

        "…no. No, Beverly-dono, but sessha…," it looked as though Shinta wanted very much to say something, but could not. In the end, he only shuffled to one of the biobeds, lifting himself up and taking a precarious position sitting on the end. He continued in a monotone voice, his eyes blank and seeing something far off into the distance. "…I have multiple foreign bodies embedded in my legs and lower torso. Fresh wounds, made no more than fifteen minutes ago."

        Beverly's lips flattened into a hard line, not liking what she was seeing _or _hearing, but he had to be treated before this could be sorted out. And Shinta was certainly in no condition to treat his own wounds. His hands were shaking visibly and his eyes were so dark a shade, almost foreign in color, though that was humanly impossible.

        "Very well," the doctor answered in a business voice, quickly and efficiently pushing her own intense worry away with the ease of long practice. "Strip, please."

        Shinta nodded and slipped out of the odd leggings now stained with blood, placing them beside him with a listless hand. He had form-fitting underclothes beneath, but his pale, muscular legs were exposed to Beverly's scrutiny. And she certainly didn't like what she saw.

        At least seven wounds, four on the left and three on the right, each at least five centimeters across, tissue and muscle bright red and bleeding profusely. The skin around each gash was heavily bruised, alerting Beverly to the fact that these pieces had to have impacted his body at great speed. Each area was just starting to clot and she knew she had to remove whatever it was inside the cuts before she could close them properly. Not only that, but there were burns in various places on his legs, electrical judging by the erratic pattern.

        Carefully keeping her anxious worry from showing in her eyes, Beverly set about her work, pressing a hypospray to Shinta's calf, injecting a small amount of sedative. Although, from the look on his face, she seriously wondered whether or not he would have actually been able to feel the pain.

        It took a good twenty minutes to carefully cleanse each wound and, as she did so, Beverly became more and more upset. His body was riddled with pieces of metal and circuitry, several shards of which were treated with chemicals potentially harmful when inside the bloodstream. It was a simple matter to remove the toxins, yes, but the fact that this had happened did no sit well with the doctor. She got the feeling that this wasn't an accident; as a matter of fact, looking closely, she could be fairly certain the pieces were from a holodeck construct, the black/yellow gridlines visible on the largest of them. That, and her medical tricorder picked up the trace photons holograms tended to give off.

        Hadn't Shinta mentioned going to some kind of practice in the holodeck? If that was where this had happened, Beverly knew things would be getting complicated very soon, as the Captain had to know about the incident by now.

        Unable to help it, her heart clenched when she thought of what might be in store for Lieutenant Akimatsu.

        Wearily, Beverly got to her feet and turned to the small medical tray she had placed beside Shinta on the biobed, lifting the dermal regenerator and giving Shinta one small, controlled glance. His expression hadn't changed at all, though the shaking in his hands had gradually receded. By the look of things, he was slowly going into shock.

        _What **happened**?_

Resigning herself to the fact that she might not know for a while, she positioned the dermal regenerator above the most severe of Shinta's burns. With practiced, efficient movements, she ran the small, concentrated blue spread of light over the injury, slowly and carefully restoring the damaged tissue. Shinta would be back to normal once she was finished, but it was obvious the mental damage would be a long time healing. She had no idea what had caused such inward pain and she found herself wishing Troi were here.

        Just then, the sickbay doors swished open and the Counselor, as well as the Fist Officer, Commander William Riker, and two security personnel, strode through. Instantly, they caught Shinta in their sights, making a beeline for him and Beverly. The doctor, though aware that Shinta would soon be taken from her care, simply continued with her work, knowing Riker and Troi well enough that she would have all the time she needed. But, after that…

        …she hadn't been this worried for someone in quite some time.

******

        Shinta was trying not to think, trying not to remember, but it was all but impossible. Over and over again, he saw himself performing that sword technique with the skill and confidence of a seasoned master, the words emerging from his mouth betraying his heart by confirming his worst fears as utterly true. There was a knowledge and memory in him not his own, a part of himself that he didn't know and, on many levels, didn't _want _to know. He couldn't keep from imagining what an attack like that could have done if performed against another person. Why, the damage from the debris alone…

        _Why is this happening to me? _Shinta thought dejectedly, fighting the urge to cover his face with his hands. _Why now, of all times? Why, when I finally find my place in life, when I find the path I want to follow? Why, when I'm finally **happy**?_

_        Is this my fate?_

        There was no way he could deny how familiar this emotion was. Helplessness, despair at what he found within himself. Even as much as it pained him to admit to these memories, he tentatively searched inside his heart for another time when he had lost his happiness, his path in life.

        Instantly, he saw again his dream from the night before, the quiet fall of snow and the splatter of blood across his clothing as a body descended to the white blanket beside him. A rush of that remembered pain coursed through him like a shock, then was gone, his control still uncertain even though he had just wrecked a holodeck with his restored introspection. That made it so much worse; if he couldn't control these flashes, he would become a danger to ship and crew and have to leave the _Enterprise_.

        More than anything, he did not want to do that. He had found a _home _here and both sides of himself, the Starfleet officer and the bearer of a killer's sword, despaired at losing a home.

        _Again…_

        After a time, the sound of the Sickbay door swishing open reached his ears and, raising his eyes a fraction, he saw the young Commander Riker walk in, accompanied by two security crewmen and Counselor Troi. Riker was a human in his early thirties, or so Shinta assumed, with dark hair and a small beard, his also dark eyes calm and keen, but with laugh lines beginning to form at their corners. He wore a uniform with red at his collar and at his sleeves, three golden pips at his throat, denoting his rank.

        Spotting him and Beverly immediately, they walked over with quick, business-like steps, the guards placing themselves on either side of the biobed while Riker stood at the front. However, they said nothing and Beverly continued tending to his wounds. The silence was heavy, oppressive, and Shinta hated the sound of it.

        In the end, as Beverly was closing the last of the gashes on his leg, Shinta gave a small sigh and raised tired eyes to the First Officer.

        "Will sessha be confined to the brig?" Shinta asked, not caring any more that Riker didn't know the word.

        Riker looked at him with a raised brow and it took a quick whisper from Troi to confirm to the other man that Shinta was indeed referring to himself.

        "No, if you can explain the incident in the holodeck," Riker replied in a reasonable voice. In truth, he was somewhat perplexed, amazed, and even a little impressed. According to his DNA file and the ship's own internal sensors, Lieutenant Shinta Akimatsu was human through and through, so how had he been able to make a hole in the floor of a duranium deck? And with only a wooden sword? It took a more than average person to defy the laws of physics and biology.

        "Sessha…remembered something," Shinta said softly, eyes moving from Riker to Troi, who, for some reason, looked as though she understood completely. "I cannot rationally explain _how _I was able to do that, but I know for a certainty that I was somehow taught to do it, just not…"

        Shinta found that he had to stop, an indescribable feeling welling up and constricting his throat. There was _something _in the back of his mind, at the bottom of his heart, the source of this knowledge and his dreams and the killing skill of his own hands. At night, when these memories—for he could no longer deny that they were indeed true, actual memories—could more easily surface in his mind, he almost, _almost _had that knowledge again. The hazy images of people would speak to him, tell him things that he should know.

        That he _had _to know, but Shinta just couldn't seem to hold onto them. And the only reason he could think of was that some inner part of himself was still so scared of what it would find should he look too far inside his heart.

        If only he could remember, **really **remember, who he was…

        Across from Shinta, Troi's eyes widened slightly, sympathy flashing on her face before she quickly schooled her expression. Shinta was grasping at what she could only describe as phantom memories, real, actual feelings and impressions that were absolutely there one moment, yet, by the next, were gone as if they had never been.

        _But, again, she heard a name, even as it escaped his grasp…_

        Finally, Shinta was able to speak once more, though his voice had gained a new level of flatness and his eyes a new kind of darkness. "It was not the right form, though. With a wooden sword it is nearly impossible to perform the Dou Ryuu Sen properly, that it is. But…sessha is glad. More…more would have been hurt if I had done it right."

        Riker's eyes widened and the security guards tensed, but Troi gave a minute shake of her head and they relaxed. If anyone would know how to deal with this situation, it would be the Counselor. But, more than that, Riker trusted her completely.

        "I can honestly say that I was not taught swordsmanship at any time during my childhood or my tenure at Starfleet Academy," Shinta continued. "But, I believe…could it really be possible, Troi-dono?"

        Shinta finished off with an abrupt change in expression, his eyes shifting in color to their original bright violet, even if they still looked exceptionally sad and even a bit scared. He was afraid of the answer, be it an affirmative or not. If what he was thinking wasn't true, then he would have to admit that he was mentally unstable, and unfit for duty on a starship. But, if it were true, the difficulties behind having memories like that might still make him incapable of remaining on the _Enterprise_.

        Either way, Shinta would soon lose something irreplaceable.

        Taking a deep breath, Troi started to answer, but, all at once, claxons sounded throughout the ship and, although the lighting didn't change in Sickbay, the corridor wall panels were now flashing with a dull, frantic crimson glow. A Red Alert had been sounded, a full day earlier than the threat letter had stated.

        "Number One, Counselor Troi, report to the Bridge," came Commander Data's voice over their comm-badges, calm in spite of the situation. He probably didn't have his emotion chip activated.

        Riker promptly taped the Starfleet delta on his chest, activating the return channel. "What's the situation, Data?"

        "Ships internal sensors have gone down and we've lost communication with several decks, including Main Engineering."

        At that, Shinta's eyes shot wide and, although he didn't say it aloud, a frantic thought rushed through his mind.

        _T'Ume is in Main Engineering!_

        However, Riker stopped right before going out the door, hesitating to follow after Troi, who was already rushing down the hall. "Lieutenant Akimatsu."

        Shinta took a spare uniform handed to him from Beverly, but met Riker's eyes squarely. "Yes sir?

        "You are confined to quarters until this can be sorted out. Bently, Mantez, please escort the Lieutenant to his room and remain on post there."

        Both the security personnel nodded and Riker walked swiftly out the door. Shinta watched him go, then looked to the guards, who were more sympathetic than anything. Beverly placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a few whispered words of reassurance before rushing to another part of Sickbay, already giving quick, calm instructions to the medical staff that had started to gather after the Alert had sounded.

        Shinta watched all this and knew that he would not, that he _could _not, sit idly by. As confused and scared and uncertain as he was, someone he cared about was in danger. Yes, he knew that the entire crew would be fighting to keep the ship and her inhabitants safe, that each and every being would be battling for the same goal as him. In truth, the problem could probably be solved entirely without his intervention; that he could more than likely just sleep the incident away in his quarters and wake to a safe T'Ume the next morning.

        But it wasn't in his nature to do so. That much was still the same between the person that he was now and the person he kept seeing in his dreams. He could not find it within himself to not be there for someone close to his heart.

        _…I will protect you…_

******

        "I am most sorry about this, that I am," Shinta said softly to the unconscious Bently and Mantez as he dragged them into his quarters. "But I very much have a place to be, that I do."

        At this point, the now-constant alteration of his speech pattern was no longer of any concern to Shinta. Right now, he had more important things to deal with. But, at the very least, he hadn't used a sword to disable the two security personnel. Like any rational Starfleet officer, he'd used his phaser and stunned them, neither of them seeing the ray of orange/yellow light that hit them squarely in the back. Well, Mantez had been altered to danger when Bently fell like a sack of rocks beside him after the door had slid open, but Shinta had found an amazing speed within himself and sent the other man into peaceful oblivion before he could even draw his own weapon.

        Now, even armed as he was, Shinta found himself irrationally longing for a sword in his hand as he jogged down the corridor towards the turbolift, his hand instinctively going to a place at his hip, feeling for the hilt. Finding only empty space caused a thrill of surprise to move through him, but his mind told him that was foolish. He knew he didn't have a sword, but…he knew that the familiar, remembered weight was an integral part of himself.

        However…could he ever really accept that?

        _"Live by the sword, die by the sword…there is no other way…"_

        "I can't think about that now, that I cannot," Shinta said softly to himself, reaching the lift and quickly bounding inside, grateful that no one else was within. And why would they be? Every other person onboard, save him and the guards he'd knocked out, were already at battlestations or on the threatened decks. "T'Ume…"

        It was funny, in a tragic sort of way. Before now, he had been unsure when it came to his Vulcan friend, as to what his feelings were. She was a friend yes, but…but now, with old memories flitting through his heart, old experience, he found a truth that he had somehow known all along. His memories told him not to wait, not to hesitate, not to deny or ignore what was deepest inside of himself. An experience he could not fully recall warned him that, if he didn't seize and hold onto what was important to him _now_, he might lose forever what was dearest in his heart.

        _I can't remember who you remind me of, T'Ume. I can't remember who I was, who the person was that knows how important you are to me. I wish I could; I wish I knew where this truth came from. I wish I knew why I can be so sure of this, but it doesn't matter…that it does not._

_        Because…_

        The lift reached its destination, the barely discernable slowing of the conveyance alerting Shinta so that he quickly attached his phaser to his waist. As the doors swished open, he came face to face with two security personnel, obviously holding this position, so close to Main Engineering.

        "What are you doing here?" One of them asked, not angrily, but anxiously. A part of Shinta's mind softened at the changed times, at how there was more cooperation now instead of hostility. Shinta ignored this, however, and assumed a calm, focused air.

        "I'm here to assist the medical staff. What is the situation?"

        The guard shook his head wearily, glancing down the corridor and its turn-off into the right. Muted explosions could be heard and the sound of phaser fire.

        "Whoever this is, they're good. Somehow, they've managed to rig miniature photon mines all around Main Engineering and we're having to take them out one by one before we can advance. And he has several accomplices; we're having to dodge combat grade phaser rifles."

        Shinta's eyes widened and he paused in his run down the corridor. "How? Shouldn't ship's internal sensors have detected the weaponry and intruders before they went down?"

        The other guard answered for him, looking angry and perplexed at the same time, her voice annoyed and determined all at once. "This guy has to be a genius. Somehow, borite-based chemicals coat the clothing and skin of the intruders, disrupting the sensors to the point where we can't even pick them up. It was like trying to detect empty space. Same goes for their weapons."

        Shinta's violet eyes narrowed, but he nodded curtly to them. "Arigato."

        Not noticing their surprised looks, he dashed off down the hall, face and expression hardened but an emotion both familiar and totally new coursing through his heart. True, he wasn't really sure who he was anymore, or what he was doing, but he could be sure of one thing.

        _I do this…I do it because…because I love her…_

"I will protect you…Tomoe…"

******

        Okay, okay, I know that was really short, but don't kill me!!

        (*hides under desk, quivering in fear*)

        This was meant to be a set-up chapter, that it was! Battle next time, as well as surprises and more ST characters and more memories. However, Shinta isn't _quite _back to who he was yet and he won't be until the next sequence. But what will he be by the end of this one? Hee, I'm not telling!

        Oh yes, and about the Dou Ryuu Sen last chapter. While it's true it can be preformed with an upward strike, the upswept motion making the rocks fly, it can also be done by smacking the sword down on the ground. Like in Episode 5: The Reverse-Blade Sword vs The Zanbatou, Kenshin uses the Dou Ryuu Sen in the smacking down on the dirt way, while in Episode 21: The Dissolution of a Nightmare, he does the sweeping-up way. And when he preformed the move in the holodeck, he had already raised the sword before I started describing the attack…hmm, perhaps I should have put a few details in on that, too?

        And don't worry, the cooler Hiten techniques will appear eventually. ^_^ 

        Sounds fun, yes? Until next time…LIVE LONG AND PROSPER, PEOPLES!!!

P.S. Has anyone seen _The Last Samurai_ with Tom Cruise? If you haven't, **SEE IT NOW!!! IF YOU ARE A FAN OF RUROUNI KENSHIN, _SEE IT!!!!_**


	7. As It Has Always Been, Part 2

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan**

Sequence Two: As It Has Always Been, Part Two

        The corridors leading down to Main Engineering were as a controlled chaos, security personnel as well as medical and command officers packed as efficiently as they could into the somewhat small space, advancing forward inch by costly inch. Transporters couldn't be used, as there was no guarantee that the crewman being transported would not materialize atop one of the many, nearly unnoticeable photon mines. Barricades were being set up as ground was gained, foot by precious foot being cleared of mines while phaser fire was dodged and returned.

        Commander Worf knew they would reach Engineering eventually, but this was taking too long. The Klingon was certain that their enemies would have enough time to accomplish whatever it was that they were here for before their forces could attack them. Racking his brain while a deep scowl rooted itself on his dark, ridged face, Worf twisted around one of the barricades, firing his phaser rifle while more blasts narrowly missed his head or burst upon the barrier. Dodging back around again as the barrage became more insistent, a growl began rising in his throat.

        He was _not _going to let these intruders win without a fight! And, as every species in this quadrant knew, a Klingon was something to be feared in a fight.

        Still, this was **taking too long!!**

        "Hey, what are you doing?!"

        "No, don't!! It's too dangerous!!"

        "He's crazy!!!"

        Caught off-guard, Worf was not prepared as a small, young-looking human with bright red hair shot past him, bizarre violet eyes narrowed dangerously. The Klingon just barely saw the handheld phaser within his grasp and the flash of teal color that marked him as a Medical officer before he was gone in a blur of motion, a small wind marking his passage.

        "Cover me, please!" The young man yelled as he leapt out into the mine-strewn hall, completely disregarding the danger.

        Though shocked and more than a little angry, Worf knew he had to do as the human said. Not because he wanted to, but because the insane fool was risking his life. Turning to his security personal, he yelled out the order. 

"Do it!"

        While the multitude of officers had ranged reactions of shock and anger, they did as they were told, leaning around the barriers with rifles in hand. Worf did so as well, though he actually found himself somewhat…no, make that completely, distracted by the human as he began an unbelievably rapid run down the corridor.

        Run, but so much more than that. As the stunned Starfleet personnel stared and fired consecutively, the small human went at a dead sprint down the middle of the hall, then suddenly veered to the right, avoiding several mines. After that, he jumped over to the left, steps wide, then narrow, more mines evaded as his speed seemed to actually increase. The phaser fire from the other end became more frantic, as if the intruders were starting to panic at the sight of this new threat.

        Which was understandable. Worf and his officers were having a difficult enough time firing without hitting the human themselves. Back and forth, jumping back, then forward, swerving left and right and even twisting in mid-air as he jumped to avoid several blasts. He was able to return some of those blasts, however, the small man's own firearm coming to bear in one amber beam after another, carefully hitting both intruder and the few mines he seemed to judge that he couldn't dodge.

        In one particularly impressive display, he leapt off the blackened floor, flipping in the air to throw off the enemies' aim, then, stretching out his slender form, fired several rounds, two bodies in the distance hitting the floor. Motion spent, he careened to the floor, but the human was ready for it, coming down on one particular spot free of mines, one that he had apparently seen from several feet away. One hand came down first and he vaulted himself up from that spot, flipping into the air once more and repeating the phaser fire, only this time towards the floor so that he had more space in which to find a stable landing. After that, it was back to dodging left and right again, his small body and beyond-normal speed serving him incredibly well.

        But, as amazing as this person was, he still wasn't able to completely land clear of the mines during one of his jumps. Another small, violent explosion rocked the area and the human was lost in a haze of dark smoke. Worf's teeth clenched as he watched, fire from both sides waning as everyone, officers and intruders, stared at the spot where the small man had disappeared. However, it was one young woman on their side who gave a shocked cry, pointing to the ceiling as the man pushed off from above. Somehow, he had just barely been able to jump clear, but a portion of his uniform leg was brunt and torn, tatters of material drifting down as blood began to run down the slender leg.

        Not only that, but a now-useless hand phaser clattered to the floor, a few weak sparks emitting from the explosion-torn metal before dying out. However, even though the weapon had been lost, the hand that had been holding it was still in one piece, though burnt and bleeding, several cuts around the human's wrist and palm from the shrapnel. And he no doubt had several more such gashes all over his body, as evident in the tiny spots of dark wetness beginning to spread in many places on his uniform.

        Still, the officer continued on, strands of flame streaming out behind him as he resumed his run, movements just as precise and efficient and inhuman as they had been before. Worf was seriously beginning to suspect that this officer, whoever he might be, was more than human. No one onboard, except for perhaps Commander Data, was capable of doing what he was doing now. To actually be able to spot the mines, small as they were, and avoid or destroy them, while at the same time dodging phaser rifles and moving at a speed no human could attain…

        If that crazy, incredibly brave or stupid, amazingly skilled creature survived this escapade, a certain Klingon was going to have a word with him.

Said lunatic was now nearing the barricades set up by the intruders before the bay doors to Engineering and the supposed human pulled an all new stunt. Putting on a last burst of inhuman speed, he ducked left, then jumped slightly and, using his gained momentum, actually ran along the wall, nearly horizontal and thusly safe from the mines that practically coated the floor in those last few stretches. Seeing this, Worf and the rest of the security personnel loosed a stream of constant fire down the center of the corridor, effectively cutting off the blasts capable of stopping the red-haired officer.

The way cleared, the human leapt off the wall, directly at the bunched intruders, with only his bare hands and the apparently primal fear he had raised in them, to judge from the yells and almost-screams. From this distance, Worf couldn't quite tell what exactly happened after that, glaring pointedly into the mass of bodies with a single streak of red among them. Still, he saw movements that would make any Klingon proud, the small man using all his speed and the strength it generated, as well as a skill level that told of years of practice. Evidently, this man had mastered a technique of fighting as one against many, but to actually gain experience in such a field…where had this man fought before?

In this day and age, physical, hand-to-hand combat, though required of all Starfleet personnel, was no longer developed to such a degree. Only those individuals who had training outside of Fleet operations—such as Worf himself or even Captain Picard, who practiced fencing—were skilled beyond just basic offense and defense. But…this human, or whatever he was…Worf could easily tell his abilities went farther than just enjoyed study or recreation. These were battle skills, honed in conflict of the deadliest kind.

Again, Worf wondered…just who was this creature?

******   
        Fifteen bodies of varying species lay unconscious on the floor before Shinta at last gained some serious sense of self. Breathing heavily but evenly enough, Shinta blinked several times to clear his vision. He was hurt and some of his strength was spent, but he felt a wealth of regained will behind it, a determination and concentration of body he could just barely recall having, some long time ago.

        Truthfully, Shinta'd had no idea what it was he had been going to do as he charged out into the corridor, only his conviction and the hazy, indistinct recollections in his mind guiding him. His surprise had been intense and heartfelt as some unknown-yet-known state of mind had captured his body, moving his limbs with inhuman skill and an almost embarrassing amount of grace. While always having a steadiness and fluidity of movement, very desirable qualities in a hopeful doctor, Shinta never thought that such abilities could be used in this manner.

        But, as great as his amazement and measure of relief was, he still could not fight off the intense wave of disquiet and muted fear that swept over him. That, and the memory of battles fought drifting through his heart.

        _I cannot worry about that right now,_ Shinta thought as he steadied his breathing and wrote off his injuries as flesh wounds that could easily be treated later. _Now that the way is cleared the others can reach Engineering quickly. But…_

        Resolution steeling violet eyes, Shinta went to the wall panel off the bay doors, quickly typing in the manual release as he stood clear on the left, careful to avoid any blasts coming through the opened passageway. There were several, so he waited until his crewmates returned that fire, cutting off the barrage. From the sound of it, at least five bodies thudded to the floor, the intruders unprepared for a direct assault. That, or they had been thrown off by the sight of their comrades strewn all over the floor, apparently dead.

        Though they were not; at least, not the ones Shinta himself had assaulted. As deadly as his body and abilities seemed to be, he could not bring himself to kill. And it was more than just his normal mindset, more than the oath he had taken never to harm; a part of that unknown heart and time refused to shed blood, even in a situation such as this.

        On many, many levels, Shinta was glad.

        Muscles tensing, Shinta very nearly sensed when the moment was right, darting around the edge of the door to dash silently into Engineering, the massive, blue-centered warp core cylinder dominating his vision for a moment before he focused on the nearest intruders. Again, in various states of dark dress, some human, some not, and his mind whispered 'thugs', hardly a threat at all. However, they were in his way and, eyes narrowing once more, he ducked at the last moment as phaser rifles came to bear and slid along the floor.

        Not ready for this maneuver, the intruder was unprepared as Shinta's boot heel connected with his chin. Catching the firearm as the man fell unconscious, Shinta hastily switched it off, knowing that rifles did not have stun settings. It would serve a far better use in a non-deadly fashion, at least in his hands.

        Four more remained as Shinta rolled to his feet, crimson hair falling into his eyes but his vision unobstructed. If anything, it blocked the path of his gaze so that his enemies had no idea which of them was the first of his targets. They learned very quickly, however, as Shinta shot to the right, a blur of black and red, and, in the next moment, one of the four hit the deck. Hastily turning, the rest tried to fire upon the small man, but he was gone as if he had never been.

        Shortly thereafter, the two nearest were also sent into blissful oblivion, the butt of a phaser rifle meeting their heads in rapid procession and with the utmost efficiency. The last intruder looked about him in horror, trying to find the red-haired demon of a Starfleet officer that had attacked them, but he found no trace of the monster. He backed up a step, fear clutching at his throat, and bumped into something soft.

        With a yelp, the intruder spun around, then looked down into apologetic violet eyes.

        "Gomen," Shinta said briskly and brought the rifle up in a crescent strike from his side, the movements so familiar and fluid that he didn't know who was more surprised, himself or the intruder.

        As the final body hit the ground, Shinta lowered his hand, moving his body out of the stance that he hadn't known he had crouched into. For a moment, he let himself be amazed and frightened all over again; he had just plunged through a very dangerous group of hostels, and come away fairly unhurt…but, then again, perhaps not.

        The wounds from that one unmissed mine were aching faintly, the cuts mostly small but bleeding profusely, a small trail of red marking where he had run across the corridor and deck. And it had been because, at the moment, Shinta had really realized what it was that he was doing and, the shock and almost denial taking hold of him for a moment, the _other_, unknown part of his mind had lost control, resulting in his injury. It was proof enough that this skill and power were fleeting at best, so it would be better for all concerned if he found the mastermind behind this quickly.

        What bothered him, however, was the overall deserted state of Main Engineering. A full shift—minus Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge, who had been on the bridge—had been in when the attack had begun, so where were all the Engineering personnel?

        It was then that his normal mindset caught up with what the hazier part of him already knew; there was a metallic pounding above his head, the sound of someone beating a fist or object on a metal barrier. Instantly, his refocused eyes went to the maintenance hatch high above, the small square door at the top of one wall ladder marking one of this deck's many entrances to the Jefferies tubes. As he watched, he could just see the flicker of light on the smooth surface, the repeated poundings shaking the door. And, looking closer, he could just see how the metal was beginning to bend outward from one corner, an individual beating at the door—not to call for help—but to escape.

        _T'Ume…Vulcans are much stronger than humans_, Shinta remembered with a smile, then wiped the expression from his face. T'Ume was the reason he was here. While she might be safe within the maintenance tunnel, there still remained the person who had put her there in the first place. And, thinking of that, Shinta felt a scowl pull at his lips, his eyes narrowing into a glare that felt familiar, even if he had never been this truly angry at anyone in his life. Those foreign memories were pounding at his consciousness again, demanding release, but he pushed them aside, retaining only that which he needed to fight.

        The distant distress that also came from the deepest part of his heart, the absolute feeling that told him that something was wrong, that he was disregarding something very important, went unnoticed.

_        So, If the intruders forced them into the Jefferies tube after blocking the exit from the other side…it would be a way for them to go about their business without interference. But where is the last one?!_

        All at once, Shinta got his answer. From high above, on one of the service platforms encircling the warp carp, a massive figure leapt down. Grip tightening on the phaser rifle, Shinta leapt back and fell once more into that familiar stance, eyeing his opponent with deadly seriousness.

        He had to have been over seven and a half feet tall, but he looked completely human, clad in loose pair of pants and tunic all of black. Grenades hung from his heavy belt, extra rifles crisscrossing over his back while he held one in his massive right hand. A long, dark brown beard obscured most of his face, reaching nearly to his stomach and matching the slicked-back hair covering his head. Bulging muscles rippling, the man, or whatever he was, took one step forward, glaring down at his much smaller opponent.

        "You…," he growled, glancing around at his fallen men. "You, a skinny little medic, did _this_? I don't believe it!!"

        Shinta would have loved to confirm this to him, but _something _in the man's voice, the tone of it, or just the sound, caught his attention unlike anything else before this, save a few. His stance loosening from surprise, Shinta stared up in shock at the behemoth, now seeing someone else of very near appearance—nearly identical—in his place.

        _…Hiruma…Gohei? _Shinta blinked several times, actually shaking his head as if to clear it, but, for once, the memory did **not **fade away. Faced with an absolute truth, something that could not be ignored or pushed aside, the memory cemented itself firmly in his mind, a specific recollection claiming a permanent place within him. _What the…? I **know **him!_

        Though having no idea how or why, Shinta did indeed know this man. He…he _remembered_. He remembered fighting him before, tracking him down and felling his men inside a…dojo? The dojo itself was hazy in his mind, the reason why he was attacking this man still unclear, but the unsavory intent of his opponent had not changed. And he remembered the solution to the problem.

        _But I don't have a sword!_

        "You will pay, weakling!" The one Shinta could only see as Gohei bellowed in rage, suddenly charging forward like a mad bull. He had a phaser rifle in hand, but he did not fire it, as he wasn't fool enough to risk puncturing the warp core. Though, by the looks of it, he might just have been angry enough to…so what was holding him back? "Pay with your life!!"

        Shinta did not reply, at least not verbally. He stood calmly, waiting for his opponent to reach him, but, as the butt of the rifle came down, he seemed to completely disappear in a blur of motion. Gohei, unable to stop his movement, stumbled forward, almost tripping but managing to straighten himself in time. However, as he glanced around in fury, he still saw no trace of the red-haired man.

        "Over here!" A voice called from above and Gohei turned stunned eyes skyward, taking in the sight of Shinta twisting in midair, brining his own rifle around as he began to descend with astonishing precision.

        However, an evil smirk spread across the criminal's face and Gohei quickly aimed his now battle ready firearm ceiling-ward, the small man directly in his sights. Shinta, easily catching this, had one moment to furiously berate himself for not thinking. He may have been able to remember how he had beaten this man before, but Gohei hadn't had a phaser rifle the first time!

        "Now you die!!!"

        _I…I have to…move faster…_

_        …a…a Ryuu Tsui Sen? But, it's too much…_

_        …wait, I don't even know how to do that!_

_        …no…no I do, but…!_

_        …I can't!_

_        …I **must!!**_

Shinta re-angled his body, shifting his weight into the correct position even though most of his mind didn't even know what it was. Instead, conceding the inner battle for now, he let the hidden part of his heart take over, the person who he was fading—for a moment—away.

        Almost.

        _The attack…but, when performed with a weapon such as this, it will not do as much damage…_

_        …he will survive._

        "Hiten Misurugi Style!" Shinta yelled into Engineering, ignoring the loud, rattling clang above him as the maintenance door was finally bashed open. The only thing that concerned him now was the attack in his own mind, and the target that no longer had enough time to fire his own rifle. "Ryuu Tsui Sen!!"

        Shinta plunged down at a speed not possible for a human, his right hand clutched tight around the barrel end of the rifle while the wider, lighter area of the grip connected with Gohei's shoulder and collarbone. There was the muffled sound of breaking bones and, stunned, the substantial man toppled backwards, hitting the deck with impressive force. Shinta had already landed before Gohei collapsed, crouched on the deck with the rifle flat against the floor, his breathing slightly heavier and his wounds more insistent in their pangs, but otherwise the same.

        Physically, at least. His mind, however, was still rolling from what he had just done, marking the similarities between this and what had happened in the holodeck. Only, he had used the first attack with such force he had cracked a metal hull…he was somewhat impressed with his self-control, be it his or whoever it was that had learned the technique.

        _No…_, Shinta realized with something of a sinking heart, letting go of the rifle and slowly, wearily getting to his feet. _No…**I **am the one who learned it, just like I am the one who defeated this man the first time, but…_

_        …but is this really me? Am I really…?_

And, at the edge of his perception, a name hovered, a single fact that would reveal all. If he could grasp that name, he knew, with all conviction, that every memory would return. He knew that it would change his life in all ways, alter his perception and his future.

        Slowly, timidly, with fear and dread and a kind of warning flashing in him, he began to reach for that name…

        "Shinta?"

        At the sound of that calm, familiar voice, Shinta's mind snapped clear of the hold his memories had taken, his heart starting to beat again. More relieved than he could say, Shinta turned towards the voice and met the dark, inquiring eyes of T'Ume. Instantly, an even greater amount of relief washed through him and Shinta almost collapsed where he stood, his knees threatening to give out. Then he realized that T'Ume, the Vulcan always a model of formality and protocol, had called him by his first name.

        A blush instantly spreading across his face, Shinta cracked a small smile. "Are you alright, T'Ume? Any injuries among the crew?"

        "Minor bruises and abrasions," T'Ume replied, then glanced down at her darkened hand, the skin now a sickly mottled green color. "And perhaps one major bruise."

        "Perhaps," Shinta with a soft chuckle and moved to examine the injury, but he felt a sudden presence at his back. Turning, he met the also dark eyes of a not happy-looking Commander Worf. Apparently, with the intruders being distracted, security had been able to transport in with relative safety. Which meant that they, with Worf and the entire Engineering staff included, had seen what he had just done.

        And so had T'Ume. Yet, she was still standing here, talking with him as if nothing had changed. As if he hadn't just proven the life he had lived as a lie, at least partially. To know that she still…still acted the same towards him caused a tightness in his heart to suddenly release, even as he steeled himself for his confrontation with Commander Worf.

        _…I shouldn't be surprised, though. I have to take responsibility for my actions._

"What were they doing?"

        "Oro?" Shinta blurted without thinking, then inwardly cursed and tried again. "What do you mean, sir?"

        Worf looked at him strangely, which was certainly understandable, then answered. "Did you see what they were trying to accomplish in Engineering?"

        "They…," Shinta started to respond, but his eyes suddenly widened, then narrowed again, his fists tightening at his sides. "They were doing nothing! They were here as a distraction!!"

        With a growl, Worf tapped his Comm badge. "Worf to the Bridge."

        "Yes, Worf," Captain Picard said over the channel, a carefully hidden anxiety in his voice. "What is the situation?"

        "The intruders within Main Engineering were acting only as decoys," Worf replied, looking incredibly angry, though it was expertly reigned in, his manner focused and completely in control. "I advise a sweep of all decks before the second party has a chance to accomplish their goal."

        "Make it so," Picard responded and, after a pause, continued. "And be careful, Mr. Worf."

        "I will, sir." Worf said as the link closed and he turned to his officers. At the same time, he tapped his badge again, this time to contact the other security groups throughout the ship "Alpha and Beta teams to the upper decks, search 4 through 12. Gamma, Delta, meet me on Deck 13. Everyone else, remain at your posts."

        The link bleeping shut once more, Worf turned to jog once more, but was stopped as Shinta stepped forward.

        "Sir, wait."

        Halting, Worf met those violet eye and saw the request there. Though his initial reaction was to refuse, all that he had seen resurfaced in his mind and the Klingon gave a gruff nod, allowing the small man to run to his side, the rest of the security officers following after.

        Normally, Worf would not have allowed an untrained officer from another division to accompany a security team, but he was neither a fool nor blind. He had seen an extraordinary warrior in this seemingly human and, beyond that, someone worth respecting.

        "Arigato, Worf-san," Shinta said as they started down the hall and the Klingon gave him another odd look.

        But his universal translator communicated the words to him easily enough and Worf gave the red-haired man a gruff reply.

        "You are welcome."

******  
        Ahh, isn't bonding wonderful? Shinta is going to have more interaction with the _Enterprise _crew as things continue, but that's all later on. Right now, there are a few more things to take care of, as well as a few more surprises. I'm sorry, though, that this took a while to post, but it just took me a while to get down to writing. I seem to be on a roll this week, so good for me! My New Year's resolution is to get down to some serious work on _all _my fics.

        Sounds good, yes? But, anyway, a question!

        To Shinji Ikari: Erm, about the spelling…I would like to say I spelled Dou Ryuu Sen and now Ryuu Tsui Sen based purely on my version of accuracy, but really…I spell 'em that way mainly because I think they look rad. Seriously. I just like they way they look and, since any RK fan can still tell what the attack is, I don't worry about it too much. Sometimes, I just go with the cooler thing, plus for a while now I've taken the above spelling as the most accurate in my eyes; hard to break a habit, you know? And heck, in the manga, they spelled it all as one word!

        Anyway, next chapter…more surprises, more familiar faces, both from _Rurouni Kenshin _**and **_Star Trek_. Things are going to get complicated, then calm, and then all the more complicated again, all in the next few chapters. And concerning when we shall see Kenshin fully reemerge…I don't have much to say…but be on the lookout. I've told my mom about what's going to happen and she wasn't too happy about it…But, anyway, next chapter sees another RK character, but one who only appeared in the manga! And, after that, Counselor Troi and Commander Data reveal to the rest of the command staff the truth behind a name!

        Until next time, live long and prosper!!

        Oh, and ENJOY THE NEW YEAR!!! XD 

        P.S. Want to know something interesting? Well, reading the first part of this chapter, where Shinta was dodging all the mines and stuff, is fun as hell while listening to the _Simple and Clean PLANITb Remix_ from _Kingdom Hearts_! I had a great time imagining what was going on, watching the pictures in my head, as the music played!! 

        (*does Carson from _Queer Eye for the Straight Guy _impression*)

Good times, people, good times!!


	8. As It Has Always Been, Part 3

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan**

Sequence Two: As It Has Always Been, Part Three

        "During our fight, the intruder made a point to avoid hitting the warp core," Shinta rapidly and calmly explained to a focused Commander Worf as they sprinted down the corridor to the nearest turbo lift. "He must have been worried he would have caused irreparable damage to the ship before his accomplices completed whatever task they had in mind."

        Worf nodded his agreement, his mind whirling with the plethora of unwanted, possible threats. Anything from hacking the main computer core to stealing the ship itself required a ship not locked down by warp engine failure and the emergency procedures that followed. And, while a Red Alert was already in effect, a punctured warp core was far more dire. Not only that, but they had no way of knowing what the rest of the accomplices were capable of doing. 

But it had to take time, of that Worf was certain. Much more time would have passed before he and his security made it into engineering and discovered the ruse, had it not been for this Lieutenant Akimatsu. Speaking of which…while most of their attention was on their tricorders, specially modified to detect the trace presence of the intruders at close range, the rest could be directed to…other things.

Reaching a long stretch of corridor, Worf took this chance to begin the battery of questions that had risen in his mind. "What was it that you did back there, Lieutenant?"

Shinta's eyes grew slightly distant, his mouth pressing into a hard line. "I'm still trying to figure that out, sir. I seem to be capable of things that I never learned to do in my life. Not only that, but I have been defying certain laws that all humans must follow."

"So you **are **human," Worf commented, then frowned, looking at his tricorder to hide his small sense of embarrassment. Not at mistaking the boy concerning his species, but for his rudeness. Worf still had trouble with that now and then, his direct, perhaps blunt manner of speaking somewhat irking to humans. His friends onboard the _Enterprise_, however, never seemed to mind. "How long has this been occurring?"

To be honest, Worf thought that Akimatsu, if he had had these skills from the first, would have entered Security. Instead, he chose Medical, making the warrior within Worf lament at the loss.

"A little over a week," Shinta replied as they turned another corner, rapidly approaching the turbolift that would take half of their team to the next deck. The rest were in another area, traveling down an adjacent lift. So far, they had managed to completely search three decks and were gradually making their way down to the shuttle bays. "Since my twenty-eighth birthday, but, as to why these abilities would appear at such a time, I have no idea, that I do not."

"But you _do _know what kind of abilities they are…don't you?" Worf asked, somewhat concerned by the confusion on the human's face. There was no way he couldn't realize it… "Even if you did not learn them yourself, aren't you aware of their use?"

"I have an idea…," Shinta replied in a murmur, leaning against the side of the turbolift. He didn't hide his anxiety and the five or so other crewmembers beside himself and Commander Worf made no comment. In fact, they seemed to be pointedly not listening, making Shinta all the more relieved at the tact and inherent understanding among the _Enterprise_crew.

A fellow officer in pain was something any of them could understand. Despite the peaceful core of the Federation, the goal of exploration that Starfleet coveted, battles were still fought, wars still raged. The Cardassians, the Dominion, and, however distantly, the Borg still posed such dangerous threats. The Romulans could be taken as biding their time, not so active within the Alpha Quadrant but there, hidden and perhaps coiling for a strike. For every world free of strife, there was another rife with conflict. A war was being fought against a galaxy-wide entropy, ground gained and lost every moment of every day.

Every being within Starfleet had a pain of some kind, some loss or buried sadness. There were some worse than others, but an overall ache was shared among each crew of each starship. To see one of their own in a deeper state was not distancing, but conjoining. If this Medical Lieutenant was no longer sure of himself, of who he was, they could understand. And they would help, if only through their silence to give him time to adjust on his own.

In this day and age, it was the way of things. True, there were still those, human and otherwise, that fouled the concept. Greed and corruption, apathy and ignorance, could not be completely eradicated; there were still 'bad seeds' planted throughout the Federation and Starfleet. Today was a very good example of degenerates and their wrong-doings, but the view continued to be an optimistic one, in spite of it all. The future was a _bright _one and Starfleet—the _Enterprise_and her crew in particular—were going to keep it that way.

Glancing at the gathered security officers, each of them finding some feature of the lift to stare at with rapt attention, Shinta couldn't help his smile. It was so different now, so much…better. He could remember…remember when good was smothered by evil, those in power thinking only of themselves, the strong living off the weak. Distantly, he could remember fighting against it, trying to prove such a system wrong, but only with victories on a small scale. 

However, right before him, was a world—a galaxy, really—reborn, a shift in humans and others towards something better, something more…

_Sessha…is so glad…_

The lift came to a stop with a small lurch, the doors swishing open, and they all resumed their jog, scanning the area for any sign of the intruders.

"I have an idea of the real purpose behind these abilities," Shinta said at last, expression focused but gaze distantly sad. "I just…do not wish to admit it, that I don't."

Worf could understand somewhat. By his manner and chosen profession, the boy did not like to harm others. After living and working among humans for so long, Worf's perception towards combat had allowed for the Terran's tendency to avoid conflict or bloodshed. Though Worf still found truest honor on the battlefield and in death by the blade, he knew that, for humans, it was different. Akimatsu was on that level, in spite of his killing skills; the gentle expression, the kind eyes, the drive to heal.

However…the sadness spoke of other things. Worf had seen it before, in humans locked too long in combat, in individuals who endured years of war. He saw it in his own comrades—in Captain Picard's eyes—very often. There was guilt there, sorrow, regret that stemmed from the loss of life. Picard hid it skillfully and, by all appearances, Akimatsu did as well. As a matter of fact, the boy didn't even seem to know what it was that he regretted.

"It might be better if you did so," Worf replied after a time, their group pausing as his communicator chirped. "Worf here."

"M'Rath reporting, sir."

Broken from his dark, hazy thoughts, Shinta's violet eyes widened at the familiar purring voice. It took him a moment to remember the Catian security officer he had been introduced to, Kioshi at that time…had it really been earlier today?. He was the next crewmember in favor for command of that division on the _Enterprise_, in fact!

"Yes, what is it?"

There was a barely discernable pause, which could be attributed to Kioshi looking over at something.

"We have detained the second party of intruders. A group of five, varying in species, was found in Stellar Cartography."

"Very good, Commander. I will be there shortly," with that, Worf turned to his remaining team. As he did so, the Red Alert ceased, Kioshi probably already having informed the Captain of the situation.

With quick, experienced commands, Worf dispersed their security team, turning a hardened gaze to Shinta once done. "You will accompany me."

Shinta knew an order when he heard one and was not at all offended. Worf had more than one reason to detain him; the danger he had put himself in, the unnatural abilities he had shown, and, of course, Shinta's own request to be made part of this investigation. There was more than that, however, a warrior's camaraderie and understanding beginning to form between them. Though Shinta didn't really consider himself a warrior, he knew that the Klingon's friendship was something hard won and worthwhile.

The only question was…did Shinta really deserve it? Unwanted as the perception was, he got the feeling that he did not.

******

Shinta should have known what was coming, should have suspected after seeing Gohei. While he was somewhat proud of his assumption towards the intruders' goals—to use the computers in Stellar Cartography to access the ship's mainframe—he should have assumed something more. The other four men were un-amazing, normal crony fair, but it was the fifth…short and stout, almost to the point of being fat, with a receding hairline and a scheming face that Shinta somehow knew.

        Yes, he _knew _this man, just as he knew Gohei. There was something about him, beyond the modern, well-cut tunic and trousers, beyond his attempt to pilfer delicate information from the _Enterprise _computers, for the purpose of selling it to the Federation's various enemies. That something spoke to the world Shinta could barely remember; although, after at last obtaining and securing a memory of this man, Shinta had to admit it left a bad taste in his mouth.

        Still, there was something he needed to do.

        Walking up to Kioshi, Shinta inclined his head to the corner of Stellar Cartography where the intruders were being kept until the Captain's arrival. "Would it be all right if I spoke with them?"

        Gazing at him for several long moments, Kioshi at last answered. "Very well, but do it quickly."

        Shinta nodded his thanks, for more than the reason of permission. He knew what questions were more than likely hidden behind that impeccable emerald gaze. After what he had done on the holodeck, Shinta could certainly understand. But he was almost pathetically grateful that Kioshi did not ask those questions.

        How could Shinta answer anyone's questions when he couldn't even answer his own?

        "Hey, Akimatsu…are you alright?"

        Shinta inwardly grimaced, wondering if he was somehow being punished. The very people he did not wish to speak with right now were seeking him out. It wasn't that he didn't desire Kioshi or Jiro's company, not at all, it was just…Shinta wasn't sure how he was supposed to face them. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain what he had done, especially when he didn't even understand it himself?

        How was he supposed to tell them that he saw blood on his hands, more blood than any Starfleet officer or doctor or human should have?

        "Hai, I am fine, Jiro," Shinta responded, face softening into a smile as he turned to his friend. If it bothered him that he could hide his misgivings so well, Shinta did not acknowledge it.

        "Fine, huh?" Jiro countered, looking Shinta up and down, raising a brow at the sorry state of his uniform and the various bloodstains. Then, the green-eyed man frowned and gave Shinta his patented serious stare. "I can't believe you, Lieutenant Shinta Akimatsu, are saying this. I've known you for years; don't try and hide it anymore. I admit I was pretty ignorant for a while, but I know something's wrong. Whatever happened in the holodeck has at least partially to do with it. And whatever happened to you now probably more so."

        Taking a step forward, Jiro placed a hand on Shinta's shoulder, looking the small man square in the eye. "I just want you to know: I'm here to help you. You know me; I have my own way of getting things done. So ask me sometime!"

        Jiro broke the dark mood by pounding Shinta heartily on the back, seeming to ignore his friend's wincing, as parts of his skin were still very tender. "And don't worry; I'll just add the favor to your tab!"

        "Nani?!" Shinta choked, surprised.

        As Jiro spoke Japanese, the other man only grinned. "Of course you have a tab. Do you have any idea how much you owe me?"

        Shinta only shook his head, a bemused, thankful smile on his face. With shadows closing in, Jiro's over-the-top attitude was like a healing balm. And, even though he couldn't explain everything to his friend, Shinta was glad he was here. "I will be certain to get back to you, that I will."

        "It's a promise," Jiro said with a sly grin and turned to Kioshi's call, leaving Shinta with only his questions.

        Taking a deep, inner breath, he went to the prisoners, under guard, if it could be called that. All but the fifth man, the leader, had been stunned, leaving them more or less arranged on the ground and the wider man standing under two phaser rifles. Under most circumstances, they would have already been moved, but one last sweep of the ship was being performed, just in case. The _Enterprise_'s crew was very protective of their ship and it showed.

        Having already been informed by Kioshi, the two security officers nodded and moved a short distance away, but not _too _far. Shinta nodded his thanks, then looked to the man even shorter than himself.

        _Maybe…**you **can give me some answers, however small they might be…_

_        I still need them…that I do._

        "Are you…Hiruma Kihei?"

******

"Are you saying that there is still a threat to the _Enterprise_?" Commander Riker asked much later in the briefing room, the senior staff discussing some disturbing revelations. "Didn't these intruders send the message?"

        Commander Data shook his head, the human gesture made just a little too stiff by his precise motions. With his pale, bone-colored skin and light yellow eyes, he was probably the most foreign in appearance of the command staff, even from Worf, but they had spent so many years working with him that it didn't matter at all. "When questioned, they did admit to obtaining illegally produced borite extract, and bribing Space Dock personnel to gain access to the _Enterprise_, but none of the intruders had any knowledge of the message we received."

        "And you're sure of this?" Captain Picard asked, knowing that they wouldn't have told him if they were not sure, but still feeling the need to ask it anyway. Sometimes, the old human skepticism would arise.

        "I didn't sense any kind of hidden motives or actions during their questioning," Troi responded, looking glum, for more than one reason. There were…other things that she had found in their minds, especially the two ringleaders. She would keep those facts to herself…for now. "While the two Hiruma brothers are tactical geniuses, they only know the basics when it comes to communications."

        "A pity about those two," Beverly commented in a distant tone, other worries more prevalent in her mind. "They would have done well in Starfleet. In any case, can we expect another bout of intruders soon?"

        "Maybe," Riker allowed. "And maybe not. Whoever this person or persons is, they were probably delayed by the Hirumas. Still, we have to be on guard."

        Worf shook his head once, mouth set in a hard line. "It is unlikely that this terrorist will attack. He knows we are more alert to danger now and that any attempt he makes would more than likely end in failure. A few weeks from now, it might be different."

        "True," Picard conceded, leaning back in his chair at the head of the table. He glanced to his right, watching the passing stars for a moment before continuing. "But having the ship on full alert for a few weeks won't have a very good effect on the crew. As much as it galls me to admit it, it might be best if we laid low at Space Dock for a time."

        Geordi nodded, thinking with his eyes closed; this hid the sky blue ocular implants that allowed him to see. His dark-skinned hands were folded on the table in their usual position, the gold stripes on his cuffs just visible in the low light. "Me and Data can probably track that message in a few weeks time, so there might not be any danger at all."

        "Still, we should keep security teams on duty at all times, even within Space Dock," Worf broke in, the desire to keep the _Enterprise _safe plain on his face.

        "Yes…but do you think we can allot leave blocks to some of the other crewmembers?" Troi asked, looking to Picard. "Sitting idle isn't going to be good for their state of mind."

        "Too true, Counselor," Picard responded with a half smile, though he quirked a brow in a sardonic manner. "I wonder what headquarters will think; giving leave to a goodly portion of the crew after no more than six months after the _Enterprise-E _was commissioned? Some people might assume we are going soft."

        "Hardly," Riker commented, picking up the bantering tone in an attempt to lighten the mood. The Hiruma brothers' assault had proven that the ship wasn't as impenetrable as they thought her to be and the concept was…unsettling, to say the least. "Vacation time and madman hunting; sounds like a weekend on Deep Space Nine, if you ask me."

        Worf and Data gave him a look, Worf in particular, while everyone else chuckled softly. Picard glanced to the ceiling as if to question the heavens as to why he had a crew such as this. Or perhaps to thank them?

        "Whatever lies ahead, I believe that is all, so—"

        "Wait," Troi spoke up, interrupting the Captain. "There's one more thing."

        Though not offended in any way, Picard was mildly surprised, taking his seat once more. The others did so as well, glancing at the counselor questioningly; that is, everyone but Data, with whom she shared a secret, telling look.

        Taking a deep breath, Troi got to her feet, walking to the viewscreen behind the Captain's chair. "How many of you know Lieutenant Shinta Akimatsu?"

        "You mean that young man with the red hair?" Picard asked, his earlier gravity returning. He had been briefed on Akimatsu's actions during the crisis and, thinking of the officer, currently being held in the brig, he questioned once again just how several of those actions were possible.

        "He's not exactly young," Beverly put in, worry on her face. She had tended to Shinta's wounds earlier, sharing a few words with her gentle staff member. In spite of his situation, Shinta had not seemed upset or angry; only quietly accepting, a shadow in his eyes that she did not like the look of. "I was going to speak with him once the briefing was over. What is going to happen to him?"

        "Well, normally there would be a court martial for defying orders and attacking a fellow crewmember," Riker commented, looking more bemused than upset. Many _Enterprise _crewmembers, including himself, could be incarcerated for very similar actions. And almost had been, on several occasions. However, circumstances were leaning towards other ways of dealing with the Lieutenant's problem. "But I think Lieutenant Akimatsu has thrown us for a loop. There's just too much that can't be explained when it comes to him; it would be pretty foolish to have him locked up when we don't even know what drove him to do it."

        "And he did not worsen the situation," Worf said with determination, his support for Akimatsu evident in his voice and posture. "Without his aid, the crisis would not have ended as well as it did."

        Geordi inclined his head, looking more thoughtful than anything. "One of my Alpha shift staff, a Vulcan named T'Ume, is friends with Akimatsu. Although she didn't say it in so many words, I got the impression she was thankful he had intervened and that…well, that he had come to save her. But it's hard to tell with her."

        "So, from all accounts, he is a good man and a good officer, with laudable reasons behind his actions," Picard summarized, one hand fisted on the table while the other grasped his chin. His tone was light, thoughtful, rather than accusing; he had to admit to himself that he liked the younger man. "But that doesn't explain his abilities. From the eye-witness accounts and the information recorded by ship's sensors, he passed the boundary of human limitations. There isn't any way we can ignore that."

        "But it might not be what you think it is," Troi said softly, surprisingly subdued. "Beverly already checked his DNA profile; Lieutenant Akimatsu was not genetically altered and is entirely human, but…"

        Here Troi paused, wondering if she was really right about this, if it was really true. The likeliness seemed so low…but so many impossible things had been proven to her in the last several years that there was no way she could not entertain the possibility of this one.

        "…in the one session I was able to have with him, I found traces of memory that wasn't from his lifetime," seeing her friend's surprise, Troi hurried on. "They were actual memories and strong enough that I could receive a partial picture of them. After checking his background, I found none of the times or places that I'd seen. I could only assume that they came from another life, from another time."

        "Reincarnation?" Riker almost scoffed; he would have been entirely skeptical if it had been anyone besides Troi, but, since it was…

        "Or genetic memory," Beverly put in, gaze lowered to the table as the ramifications of this surmounted themselves in her mind. "But from when…?"

        "The last thing I was able to get from him was an actual name," Troi continued, a familiar sense of foreboding arising. What Data had found might not work so well in Akimatsu's favor, but there was no other way of explaining it. "I had Commander Data search up any information concerning this name."

        "It took a longer amount of time than I had planned," Data spoke up, seeming to be chagrined at the fact that he had only obtained these facts earlier this morning. "The name was old and difficult to trace and, with the recent situation, I was not able to present the results until today."

        "Still, this is what we found," Troi finished for him and quickly input a command on the wall panel beside the viewscreen. After a moment, text began scrolling down the monitor, an occasional scanned picture flashing into view. Troi was obviously trying to reach a point on the gathered data as she spoke, though the gathered staff wondered why she did not go directly to it.

"The name I was able to catch from Akimatsu's memories was Kenshin. Kenshin Himura. At first we assumed it was just an old Japanese name, Himura being a surname that had slowly died out about two centuries ago. However, Akimatsu was able to tell me the time period he thought his memories were from, roughly before or after the beginning of the Meiji Era, 1864 through 1878. Using that as a starting point, Data found the number of people bearing that name during those years. However…after Akimatsu displayed those abilities, the choice was narrowed down to one."

"How is that?" Riker asked, a brow raised. A second passed and he shook his head. "No, never mind. If there was a person with those kinds of skills, they would definitely be one in a million.

Troi nodded and went on. "Most information from that time period is sketchy, but a recent historian was able to uncover memoirs of people from the preceding years. One of them was a woman named Chizuru Himura, wife of Kenji Himura, who was, by all accounts, Kenshin Himura's son. She wrote all the facts about her father-in-law that he husband told her and the information is…substantial."

Troi paused, biting her lip from distress. She had gone through this data beforehand and what it had revealed…she knew Shinta did not remember all these things; at least, not yet. And his crewmates did not know of them. Perhaps it would be…better if things remained that way.

But, thinking again for a moment, she realized they might all be in serious danger if she did not reveal this now.

"Kenshin Himura fought during the Meiji Revolution, on the side of the Ishin Shishi, or the patriots that strove to overthrow the government. He was active for five years, from age fourteen to nineteen."

"He was a solider at that age?" Beverly asked, appalled, though aware that, centuries ago, that was how it had been on her planet. Still, it was such a hard concept to grasp.

"Well…he fought on the front lines and served as a bodyguard during the later years of the revolution, but…," Troi tightened her hold on her calm, still feeling the sadness at her next words. As much as she didn't want to say this, she knew…she knew it was true. "During the majority of the first two years, he served as a hitokiri; a manslayer, performing assassinations for the patriots. However, about a year and a half after he started, some unknown event caused him to be…retired from this position. Someone else took his place, Kenshin spending the rest of the revolution as a free swordsman. Afterwards, he disappeared and didn't reappear until ten years later, in Tokyo."

"How can you be sure this man's memories are the ones Shinta has?" Beverly asked, afraid for him. To think of him doing such things…she just couldn't imagine it.

"I'm sure," Troi replied in a soft voice and turned to the viewscreen. "This is the only known photograph and it…it speaks for itself…"

The flat monitor flickered as it reached the end of the gathered information and, after a moment, a magnified scan of an old sepia picture emerged. It was of four people, two men, a woman, and a child, the group of them in somewhat dirtied clothing, all but the tallest man smiling into the camera. This lanky individual looked petrified, standing stock still, but it was not him that they had their attention focused on.

Instead, it was the mirror image of Lieutenant Shinta Akimatsu that held their gazes, various degrees of shock coursing through them. True, he was clad in garments centuries old; true, he held a sword at his waist and his hair was long, tied at the nape of his neck. True, there was a large, cross-shaped scar on his left cheek, one that Akimatsu notably lacked. Even the barely discernable red of his hair could be dismissed, the age of the photograph attributing to some watered colors.

However…there was no denying the face that smiled at them through the centuries was that of Shinta Akimatsu. 

Or, did that mean that, perhaps…was it Kenshin Himura waiting for them so calmly and quietly in the brig, unaware of who or what he was?

Even with all of these questions presented before them, the silence in the room was still an almost palpable thing.

******

        Ahem…sorry it took a while to get this chapter out, but lord knows I've had problems lately (school, sickness, sleep-deprivation, homework, and an unnatural ability to not get anything done). Hey, at least I'm here now, right? And with a pretty progressive chapter, if I do say so myself.

        Like I said, new RK character this chapter, though you didn't see much of him; don't worry, we'll be getting a replay of Shinta's conversation with him next time. Also next time is Shinta's (temporary) fate and the start of a new sequence (you know, I'll have a different chapter title before the 'Part 1, 2' stuff). Every time I changed the sequence title, I change the mood of the set of chapters. And I'm using a particular pattern for these titles and, as I go on, you might be able to spot it.

        Also, a note on names; while Shinta says a name in the traditional way (Hiruma Kihei instead of Kihei Hiruma), Troi (and the rest of the crew, by default) does it the more modern way (Kenshin Himura rather than Himura Kenshin), simply because it is more of the standard.

        But whatever. Just know that, come next time, we get something of a break; a little fluff, a few good-byes, some reminiscence, and a look at 24th-Century Earth. However…beware. This is just the calm before the storm. And when I say storm, I mean it.

        Until then…

        (*cue dramatic music*)


	9. The Sound of Snow Falling, Part 1

****

A Glint of Amber Stars

By

Rem-chan

Sequence Three: The Sound of Snow Falling, Part One

Shinta was opened mouthed with shock, a surprised 'Oro!' escaping him before he managed to form a question. "Sessha…_isn't _being court martialed?"

"No," Captain Picard told the astonished lieutenant with a half smile. He wasn't sure what it was, but the small man had a way about him; one couldn't help but be at peace. Even though the medical officer was sitting on the other side of a forcefield, still detained within the brig, he somehow communicated a sense of calm and…something else. "Though your actions were in defiance of orders, you were the driving force behind our apprehension of the intruders. However, you will be allotted leave for a week or two, to give you time to concentrate on your own problems."

"Ahh…," Shinta said softly, looking at the floor with a contemplative expression. "Troi-dono told you?"

"Certainly," Picard replied in a friendly tone, though he was somewhat surprised with himself. Usually, he didn't act this way towards any of his crewmembers besides his command staff, whom he had spent years getting to know. To be able to feel so familiar with someone so quickly was new and, in a way, refreshing. "I am always concerned for any of my crew."

Shinta smiled, violet eyes bright, the shadows from the last two days diminishing somewhat. "So…leave?"

Picard nodded and motioned to the security officer accompanying him. The tall, black-furred Caitain nodded and went to the side panel beside the cell, the forcefield blinking out. "While the _Enterprise _is in Space Dock the majority of the crew will be on leave. You have already been scheduled for the first nine days."

Taking a step forward and straightening the front of his uniform, Shinta smiled his thanks. "Arigato, Picard-sama."

With a raised brow, Picard nodded. "Thank _you_, Lieutenant. A disaster was averted because of you."

Shinta laughed softly, a hand going behind his head as he blushed. "Ses—I did only my duty, that is all."

"However you wish to think of it, Lieutenant," Picard replied and motioned to M'Rath. "I leave you in the commander's capable hands."

"Aye, Captain," Shinta said, managing to address him properly. He might have been acting more and more like the person he barely remembered, but Shinta still carried his Starfleet training with him.

As the door swished shut behind the Captain, Shinta turned to M'Rath. "Do you need to…speak with me?"

"Yes," Kioshi responded and motioned for Shinta to follow him. They made their way down the corridor, the security officer escorting Shinta to his quarters. "I have been chosen to head Security onboard the _Enterprise_ and will be promoted once Commander Worf returns to Deep Space Nine."

"Congratulations," Shinta said with some surprise, though he shouldn't have been caught off-guard. While he had never seen Kioshi in action, he could tell by the very way Kioshi carried himself that the Caitain was certainly capable of the job.

Kioshi nodded his thanks, then continued. "Because of this, I have been informed of a new crew subdivision that Starfleet is considering. The _Enterprise _has been chosen to test this field and, if the results are satisfactory, the subdivision will become active on all starships."

Shinta tilted his head, genuinely intrigued. "What is this field?"

"The designation has been determined as Tactical Medicine," Kioshi replied, the barest hint of a smile quirking his mouth as Shinta stared at him, wide-eyed. "Starfleet has discovered that more and more conflicts are occurring planetside or onboard enemy vessels, or in a dangerous situation lacking proper defense. Very often, proper medical equipment and/or protection are absent in these situations."

"I can see that," Shinta said thoughtfully, pausing outside his quarters. "But what does this have to do with me?"

"The purpose of Tactical Medicine is to train officers capable of treating the injured while still providing defense in hostile situations, beyond just the use of a phaser. What Starfleet is looking for are individuals with the physical and mental skills required to work in hazardous situations, and without proper equipment," Kioshi gave Shinta a pointed look with his piercing eyes. "I have already spoken with the Captain and we have chosen you to be the first officer commissioned within the Tactical Medicine division."

Shinta was speechless for a moment, somewhat overwhelmed, then managed to choke out, "…me?"

"Yes," Kioshi replied in an even tone, seemingly unruffled. "I reviewed the few recordings we had of your…exploits, and spoke with the witnesses. From this, the Captain, Commander Worf, and myself determined that you are the most capable already in the fields we need: an exemplary Medical officer, but with skills needed in combat situations, with or without firearms."

"I…but…," Shinta tried to say, his thoughts a jumble. He was just barely coming to accept what was happening to him and here he was, faced with another change. It wasn't that he found the idea terrible; he had seen he was completely capable of protecting others while he cared for them, it was just that…it felt too familiar. Far, far too familiar. "I'm not sure what to think, sir."

"Think it over, if nothing else," Kioshi replied and turned to leave. "I expect your answer when you return from your…vacation. If you wish to accept this position, I will be your superior officer. Good day, Lieutenant Akimatsu."

With that, Kioshi walked off down the corridor, leaving a stunned red-haired human in his wake.

* * *

Sitting at his desk, a cup of green tea beside him, Shinta mused over the events of the last three days. So much had changed, perhaps too much. Tomorrow he would be leaving the _Enterprise _for a short time, already having decided to visit his home in Tokyo. While under the care of a housekeeper, he always liked to visit his family's estate regularly. After both his parents had been killed in the Battle of Wolf 359, he had inherited the large, traditional home on the outskirts of the massive city. The district was a pleasant one, the second of fifteen regrowth areas.

After the third World War, most of Tokyo had been devastated, old landmarks and constructions, as well as acres upon acres of plant life, destroyed. Reconstruction had taken place during the subsequent decades, but much of old Japan had been lost. It had only been in the early 22nd century that a revival of the old had taken place, old style buildings becoming paramount and a massive restoration of the lost landscape. Today, Tokyo—as well as the rest of Japan—was a mixture of both tradition and modernization, 24th century technology mixing seamlessly with architecture and forestry dating back to hundreds of years before.

Thinking of his home, Shinta couldn't help his smile, sad as it was. The house had been built for a large family, but there was only himself now and returning there was always a bit lonely. He'd accepted his parent's deaths, but it was still difficult to return to where the memories were still so fresh. However, Shinta found himself wanting a sense of _home_, especially after the talk he'd had with the elder Hiruma brother three days ago…

_"Yes, I'm Hiruma Kihei, but what does that matter to you? What do you want, boy?"_

"Anou…do you know who…I _am?"_

"Of course not, fool! You just…look like someone I used to know."

"Who?"

"Not that it matters to you, but I can't remember. And I don't care to. I get the feeling that I didn't like the person. Now get out of my face."

"Hai, hai, but just one more question. Do you…recall this person's name?"

"No. The bastard went by rurouni."

"Rurouni…," Shinta murmured to himself, voice distant. "A wanderer…"

Sighing, he took a sip of his tea, noting with some amusement that he didn't hold the cup like most people would. Instead, he cupped the bottom with two hands, rather than clasping it around the middle as one would a cup of coffee. Different as this was, he felt like he'd been doing it his entire life, which he knew wasn't true. Or was it? It was so difficult to be sure of anything anymore. Perhaps he really did need a vacation, if only to sort out his own thoughts.

A beeping drew Shinta away from his musings, the red-haired man turning with a little surprise to his door. "Yes, who is it?"

"It's us, Akimatsu," came Jiro's voice over the comm link, sounding annoyed. "Let us in."

Setting down his tea, Shinta got to his feet, giving the verbal command for the lock to release. The door slid aside, revealing Jiro, T'Ume, Kari, Beti, and Karther, the lot of them walking without preamble into his quarters.

Shocked, Shinta stuttered a bit before speaking. "You're all…what are you doing here?"

"We were getting worried, Shinta-kun," Beti said, voice empathic. "T'Ume told us what happened, so we wanted to see if you needed someone to talk with."

"Turning yourself into a damn hermit isn't going to solve anything," Jiro commented, gesturing for emphasis as he plopped down into a chair. "And since some of us are leaving soon, we wanted the chance to have one last chance to get together."

"Ahh…yes, I had forgotten," Shinta said softly, eyes downcast. Beti, Kari, and Karther were being reassigned to different ships very soon. In fact, the transfer would occur in a couple days, once they reached Space Dock. He bowed his head, feeling a touch of shame. "Forgive me. It was wrong to be so selfish."

"That is not the case," T'Ume stated in a voice that would accept no disagreement and Beti and Kari nodded.

"We had our own plans before any of this happened," Kari said, placing a hand on Shinta's shoulder. "We're the ones who should be sorry, leaving you like this. At the very least, we want to be sure you'll be alright without us."

"Hai, Sessha will be fine," Shinta reassured her, feeling some extent of confidence himself. A small part of his mind whispered that it was because he still had T'Ume, but he buried that for a moment. Later would be the time to explore those feelings anew. Also, even though he had fallen back into that old method of speech, none of his friends had even batted an eye.

"You'd better be," Karther spoke up, shuffling nearer. "You wouldn't want us to track you down just to make sure. Although, as long as Jiro is around, I'm sure you'll take care of yourself."

"You've got that right," Jiro proclaimed, jade eyes twinkling with mirth. "I know how to keep him in line."

"What can I be but pleased?" Shinta replied, voice jokingly sarcastic. Then, he smiled, the expression wonderfully natural. "Arigato, everyone."

"It's not time for formal good-byes yet, but still… ," Beti said and embraced Shinta heartily, Kari joining in. "Take care of yourself, Shinta-kun."

"And try to avoid any more collisions with the Captain," Kari said slyly, grinning up at Shinta.

"Oro…," Shinta mumbled in a pained voice, feeling his face redden. "How did you find out?"

"I took the liberty of telling them," T'Ume said and Shinta looked at her, stunned. His surprise rose a notch at the look in her eyes. Though her neutral expression hadn't changed, he swore he could detect the laughter in her dark gaze, as well as…something more. "I assumed that you would not disapprove."

"Iie, I don't," Shinta replied in a grateful tone as Kari and Beti released him. He missed the significant look the two women shared and was all the more surprised when the pair herded Karther and Jiro out the door.

"Take care!" Karther yelled, while Jiro loudly protested and questioned just what Kari and Beti were up to. As the door shut behind them, Shinta looked questioningly at T'Ume.

"Is there more you wish to speak to me about?" He asked, certain he should have felt uncomfortable and intrigued at how he was not.

"Commander La Forge has granted me the same leave block as you," the Vulcan said evenly, though there was some nuance in her expression that Shinta was just able to discern. Was it…hopeful?

"In that case…," Shinta started, his heart leaping at the prospect. After what he had realized during his confrontation with the Hiruma brothers, the chance to explore his…his love was welcome. And harrowing and overwhelming, but welcome just the same. "I will be visiting my home in Japan, so would you like to accompany me?"

"Yes," she replied. "I would…enjoy it."

Eyes widening, Shinta asked. "You would? Anou…this may be a foolish question, but…why?"

Her expression changed once more, in the subtle way only a Vulcan's could, and Shinta was astonished by what he saw.

_Does she…feel the same way I do?_

Unlike what many people assumed, Vulcans were not emotionless; instead, their control was astounding, to the point where they seemed without feelings. Shinta knew that, in fact, emotions ran deep in Vulcans and only appeared at certain times, if at all. Some adepts on their world were able to remove from themselves all semblance of emotion, but T'Ume was certainly not one of them. And while she was as reserved as any of her people, she seemed willing to show how she felt when she wished. In moderation, perhaps, but still…

"When we were being held prisoner, I found myself thinking, illogically, of you," T'Ume said, voice calm and hands clasped behind her back. "When you arrived, I was…relieved."

"Even though you saw…what I did?" Shinta asked, some fear, as well as hope, in his voice.

T'Ume raised a brow, her look meaningful. "Though your abilities certainly merit praise, it is your presence that is of the most importance to me."

She took a step closer, this kind of close proximity to another usually uncomfortable to Vulcans. However, she showed no sign of it, her expression as calm as ever and her eyes containing a depth of feeling that Shinta suspected no other but he could see. Discerning this, he gained an unexplainable sense of melancholy, as if he had experienced this somewhere before. Seen dark, dark eyes gaze at him with an emotion their owner could not fully express, but was felt with all their heart.

_…Tomoe…_

"I find that I would prefer my time spent in your company," she said in that same voice; or rather, mostly the same, as Shinta could just hear what she was really saying.

Slowly, she raised a hand, two fingers extended. Shinta recognized this as the usual method couples on Vulcan expressed their connection, the simple touch more intimate than something more. Because of their telepathic abilities, implemented through touch, Vulcans found something more meaningful in this interaction than anything else.

An indescribable feeling, mixed of love and gratitude and relief, surmounted itself in Shinta's heart and on his face, his violet eyes softening. In this moment, it did not matter that he saw blood on his hands, that he felt a killing strength in his bones. It didn't matter that he carried the memories of a life lived long ago, or that those memories were emerging in others besides himself.

None of it would matter, not so long as he was with her.

_I will protect you…always…_

Lifting his hand to touch the tips of his pale fingers to hers, Shinta smiled from the bottom of his heart, pushing away all the other memories to retain only this one, which was now both old and new.

"I would like that as well…that I would."

******  
Making her way down the corridor, T'Ume allowed the smallest hint of sadness into her expression, feeling it was necessary. No one else was about, so it went unnoticed by anyone, save for herself. Shinta was at peace now, no doubt settling into his first restful sleep in over a week. Through their touch she had been able to calm and suppress some of the turmoil he had been feeling, establishing a link between them. It was cursory at best, but she would be there for him, to lessen the impact his memories had upon his heart.

She knew how painful they were, for they matched her own; Tomoe Yukishiro had known who she was—who she had _been_—since the moment she had first seen Shinta Akimatsu.

Knowing what she did, the desire to protect him was incredibly powerful, as was her love. It mattered little that she was Vulcan now, rather than human; perhaps it even magnified her feelings, as well as aided her in her task. With her telepathic skills, she could prevent his pain, though she knew that, one day, he would have to know. But, looking at the person he was now, Tomoe knew it would be devastating for him to truly be aware who he was and who he had been.

So, she would remain by his side and, if at all possible, live the life they were never able to have. Times were very different now and…hopeful. There _was _a chance for them now, and, if she could help Shinta with the demons residing in his memories, that chance would become a reality. Though she did not know how it was that they had been reborn in this time, or why, she felt the deepest gratitude, and joy.

"Adun…," Tomoe said softly to the air, feeling her love anew. After a moment, a tiny smile graced her lips as she shook her head slightly. "Anata, this time, I will protect _you_… "

* * *

Unbeknownst to the pair of them, or to the entire _Enterprise _crew, another individual was setting their goals, a newfound purpose and hope within them. An Ensign sat alone in one of the observation lounges, watching the stars flash by with a smile on their face. They had intended to massacre the crew a couple of short days ago, but circumstances had delayed their plans. However, they were not upset in the least. In fact, they felt a lighthearted joy.

For they had discovered something, some_one_, who they had been searching for. They had all but given up hope in finding him, and resigned themselves to continuing their other tasks. However…things had changed.

Yes…changed, and for the better.

"Finally…," the Ensign said, a smirk greeting the stars. "I will have my due…"

The smirk grew cruel and thankful, gaining a hint of madness.

"Finally, I have found you…Battousai…"

* * *

And so the plot thickens. Like I said, this is the calm before the storm and quite a storm it will be. Still, there is one more chapter before we get to the BIG stuff. After the BIG stuff comes the aftermath (obviously), then the sequence changes again. I'm not sure what I'll be doing for the next sequence, as I'm putting a lot of effort into this one. There are heavy events coming soon, so I hope everyone's prepared for them.

As it stands, we see Japan next time, Shinta and Tomoe spend some time together, but, amid the fluff, Geordi and Data discover who sent the message. However, it may already be too late…

(*pauses dramatically, then blinks as something is remembered*)

Oh, one note before I leave you: the Battle of Wolf 359. It was the Federation's first major conflict with the Borg. What are the Borg, you ask? The are a race of cybernetic beings, combining organic and technology so that they look icky, all pasty with implants and such all over their bodies. However, the Borg aren't really just one race; they are many, as the Borg will assimilate other beings. Assimilation means that another species is captured and physically and mentally altered to be as Borg.

Physical changes mean to become cybernetic, but the mental is when the species is connected to the hive mind. All Borg act as one; there are no individuals and, once a person is assimilated, they lose all sense of self. The Borg are controlled by the Borg Queen, who basically _is _the Borg.

As you can imagine, the Borg are probably the worst and most terrible enemy the Federation has, especially since, with the technology from countless other races, they are far more advanced. The Battle of World 359 was, basically, a slaughter; the Borg destroyed an entire fleet, or most of it. What's worse, the Borg had been led by none other than Picard, who had been captured and assimilated (see "Best of Both Worlds", Parts 1 and 2). While his crew was able to rescue him, the damage had been done. Shinta feels no anger towards Picard, but Picard (in later chapters) might feel the guilt.

And the Borg will make an appearance in this fic, of that there is no doubt, but not for a while. Anyway, I think I'll be going now, as I'm pretty tired, kinda sick, and my behind has fallen asleep from sitting in this chair.

Later!

P.S. 'Adun' is the Vulcan word for husband. Also, about the picture last chapter: a sepia print is actually a variety of light brown in coloring. But, as to why there was red; you know how there is a technique today that can add color to old pictures? I know there is because our history book has color photos of Nazi Germany that are too bright and too clear to be color pictures from that time period. Well, at some point someone must have tried to color that photo, but, by the time it reached the Federation archives, it had already faded again.


	10. The Sound of Snow Falling, Part 2

A Glint of Amber Stars

By

Rem-chan

Sequence Three: The Sound of Snow Falling, Part Two

By some miracle attributed to either the ancient spirits or the strength of conviction, Japan's former capital still stood, one building in particular just as it was hundreds of years ago. Legend was that, during the third World War, in spite of the conflicts within Kyoto and the massive bombardment of the entire country, the castle had remained. Battered, perhaps, yet a continuing testament to the conviction and inner fortitude of the Japanese people. Even with a planet-wide conflict consuming millions of lives, they had protected their home and their heritage, preserving a piece of their hearts and past whereas so many others lost the reminders of themselves and days gone by.

Although Kyoto wasn't his home, Shinta always made a point to visit. The old capital was a draw for Earth natives and other world visitors alike and this was very evident on the streets. Andorians and Tellarites, Vulcans and Trills, all manner of beings from the myriad of Federation worlds, wandered the streets, striking the obvious image of tourists, though Vulcans would have to consciously try to seem out of place. Whatever the street or district, old or new, it was populated by at least a few people, wandering over centuries-old cobbles or new smooth-stone walkways. Delicate trees and shrubbery graced the eves and archways of the buildings, small gardens and shrines expertly placed to be within view at all times, the larger park areas always accessible on nearly every avenue.

Pausing to rest for a moment, seated on a small bench beneath the flowing branches of a young wisteria tree, Shinta had to admit that he was happy. With all that had happened to him lately and the good-byes he'd had to make on the _Enterprise_, he hadn't thought it possible for him to feel so lighthearted. There were still whispers of shadows in his memory, blood-stained hands and old battles long-forgotten still lingering just within his comprehension, but, somehow, they had far less presence than before.

Was it because of T'Ume? Perhaps, but he much preferred her company to the darkness inside himself. Thinking about it now, he had felt this way about T'Ume for a quite a while, perhaps ever since he had met her during his first day on the _Enterprise_. It was just…herself. The way she went about her business, her personality…when he could discern it, of course. Her calm in the face of adversity, her trust in him. She had never questioned his appearance like others had, nor had she ever mistaken him for being younger than he was. They shared a love of peace and quiet and, by the end of his first week as part of the crew, three of her simple, elegant flower arrangements had adorned his quarters. For a long time now his heart had been nudging at his mind, trying to signal that there was more to his association with her than just an ordinary friendship.

Plus, she liked his cooking, odd as it often was. Thusly, over the last several months, a revelation had slowly grown within him. And, though it had taken a difficult crisis and the echoes of an experience he couldn't really remember, Shinta had accepted this revelation.

He knew how he felt and was glad that, at last, he could admit it to himself. That he could _know _it and, perhaps, express it…

To most passerby, her expression was neutral as she sat next to him, impassively examining a few lilac-colored petals that had drifted into her lap. However, Shinta could see beneath that cool mask she kept, smiling to himself at the curious intelligence and delight he found there. She was enjoying her time with him and that made him the happiest of all. Though only having realized his feelings a few days ago, it felt like he had known her for years upon years; as if her cool, calm face, hiding the truth of her heart, had always been in his mind. Her presence, welcome and wonderful, was familiar as well, though for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.

But, at this point, he decided that he didn't care. Getting to his feet, he offered his hand to her in the manner of old gallantry, somewhat sheepish but knowing that she would accept it. "Shall we continue?"

Nodding, T'Ume took his hand as he knew she would, but also reached towards his head, removing a full set of blossoms that had fallen to tangle in bright red strands. "Spring is almost at an end."

"Hai, it would seem so," Shinta replied as he glanced around at the various blooming plants. Modern age botanists had extended the usually temporary blossoming season for most flora and fauna, though the release of pollen remained the same. Centuries ago, sakura trees had only been awash with their brilliant and gentle colors for about a week; now they lasted the entire season. However, as T'Ume had observed from the other plants, that time was drawing to a close. "Is there any other part of the city you'd like to see?"

"Perhaps…," T'Ume began, glancing around with the merest hint of humor in her dark eyes. "A place where we will not be so easily viewed."  
"Oro?" Shinta said in surprise and followed her gaze. Several bystanders were stopping or slowing to watch them, native and visitor alike. He supposed they had good reason; for one, they were still clothed in their uniforms, Starfleet officers not being very common in this area of the world. Plus, they were a Vulcan and a human, acting as though they were on a 'date'. Which they pretty much were, Shinta realized with a blush. "Ahh, that would be a good idea, de gozaru."

T'Ume raised a slender brow in his direction and Shinta blinked several times, violet eyes wide and confused. After a moment, he realized yet another quirk had been added to his speech. Just where had _that _come from? It was basically what he had been saying at the end of his sentences, but in a much older form of Japanese. He felt his blush deepen and resolved to at least translate that phrase into Federation Basic, if he was going to say it at all. T'Ume didn't seem to mind, though, and his heart did a little flip as she simply shook her head, apparently at the unexplainable ways of humans, and gestured for him to continue his tour.

Smiling with a hint of bashfulness, Shinta complied, taking up an easy pace as they ambled down the streets, pointing out various landmarks. T'Ume listened with rapt attention and her customary focus, absorbing all he had to say and remaining a constant presence at his side. When she once more placed two fingertips against his own, he almost jumped for joy, though he chose instead to just return the touch. It felt so natural, even though it was a foreign method of showing affection. However different it was, he felt like he could do anything with T'Ume, the wealth of understanding between them almost beyond normal.

How could she know just how to speak to him to make him feel at ease? How could she pace herself with him as he walked, somehow match each movement of his with her own? Once more, Shinta had the overwhelming sense that they had done this before, walking the streets of Kyoto together. Déjà vu in a very intense way, though it felt so long ago…

…and it was tinged with something different in the place of happiness. Very different. Painful, even. There had been a time, long ago, when these streets had not been peaceful, blood instead of sunshine running along the old cobbles. Conflict and loss adorning the arches of the city instead of blossoms and boughs, a heaviness in his own heart instead of this newfound joy. Somewhere in these changed walkways were memories of despair and loneliness, made somehow more true by a sudden added weight in his right hand and on his hip, in the feel of flesh and sinew against gleaming blade…

Shinta came to a stop, overwhelmed by the sudden wave of cold against this consciousness. Before he could stop them, images and voices pushed against his mind, demanding his attention and causing one hand to press against his eyes and the other against his left cheek, where an arctic chill was beginning to spread across his skin.

_"I can't believe someone was actually able to mark you. He must have had great skill."_

"No. Just spite."

Unable to stand, Shinta fell to his knees, the cold becoming more pronounced throughout his body. A gentle breeze had picked up, but to him it felt like the stinging gusts of winter, the kind fall of colored blossoms shifting to a heartless cascade of snow. Even as a leaf-filled branch rustled with the health and promise of spring, all he heard was the bare, angry thrum of skeletal trees. He could almost see them, stripped and wraithlike, his vision beginning to cloud over with a crimson haze that matched the blood he could see so clearly on his hands.

_"I smell perfume."_

"It's white plum."

"I'm surprised you are familiar with such a sensual scent."

"…"

"Look at her! Nice, eh?"

Falling into an abyss that somehow felt more familiar than anything, Shinta did not notice it when T'Ume forced his hands away from his face. Spreading the fingers of her right hand over his left cheek, she placed each fingertip over a particular point, on a part of his nose, sinuses, temple, and her thumb just beneath his chin. As her dark eyes slid shut, she felt the almost burning in her hand the signaled the connection, but what startled her was the _cold _she felt from him, the pathways of his mind stagnant and lipid as a storm raged just beneath the surface. Slender brows flicking together, she focused her considerable mental strength, using the mind meld to suppress and force away the harsh, centuries-old memories that she knew all too well.

It did not surprise her that she found herself at the center of the wintry anguish.

_"You…you made it. You made the bloody rain fall."_

She saw me! Should I…kill her?

When Shinta was certain he would pass out from the indescribable pull on his consciousness, dragging him down into a frigid pit of despair, there came a sudden counter force. The feeling originated from the warm, slender hand placed over the left side of his face, each fingertip hot against his skin. It took him a moment to realize T'Ume was speaking softly to him, calm, even words in her own language, an older dialect more suited to rituals and ceremonies. A moment more passed and he was shocked to discover that, using a mind meld, T'Ume was blocking and sealing his memories, the warmth from her hand and mind washing them away as if they had never been.

Though, as he looked up to her with dazed, dark violet eyes, he saw, for a moment, a slightly different face; still hers, but altered. Instead of the upswept brows and elegantly pointed ears, there were human features and long, smooth hair tied back, rather than the short, gracefully layered style T'Ume wore. Still too, was the scent of white plums, subtle and delicate.

_"What is your name?"_

"It's Tomoe. Yukishiro Tomoe."

"Are you ill, Shinta?" T'Ume asked in her usual calm, straightforward tone, aiding him as he attempted to regain some semblance of self and order. She had removed her hand, though she grasped his shoulders to help him to his feet. For a moment, he was shocked at her strength, then remembered once more how much more powerful Vulcans were than humans. "Do you require medical attention?"

"Iie, I just…," he tried to find the words to explain it and failed, instead smiling in a tired, lost way, looking to her for the support he realized he desperately wanted and needed. With a subtle nod and her hand upon his, she gave it, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Should we…continue?"

"Are you certain you are fine?" T'Ume questioned once more, the repeated inquiry marking just how worried she was. Neither of them seemed to find it strange that she had used a mind meld, though Shinta was inwardly shaken that it had actually taken an outside force to free him from the icy grip of his memories. "There is no need to tax yourself and endanger your health on my account."

"Sessha will be alright as long as…," Shinta had to pause there, a hint of a blush spreading across his face as he noticed just what it was that he was saying. Still, he said it, sounding flustered again and picking up a brisk pace towards the main avenue so that he wouldn't have to see her reaction. "…as long as you are with me, T'Ume."

With his back to her, he didn't see her smile, nor did he know of her idle thought that she had used his first name and that he had not added the 'dono' suffix so prominent in his speech lately. These nuances were brief, however, as T'Ume glanced down the small side street they had almost taken. Though to Shinta it would seem as if his attack had been of a somewhat random nature, she knew better. The street had changed, of course, and restoration had altered it to the point where, if this area hadn't been etched into her subconscious, she wouldn't have known it. Just as he had known it, in spite of his ignorance of his past identity and what this place had to do with it.

After the wars, the old cemeteries had been 'dug up', so to speak, and restored to as close as their original state as possible. And, though the gravestone was now several feet off from where it had used to stand, T'Ume's gravesite remained mainly untouched, cleaned and sometimes adorned with flowers by acquiescent tourists wishing to be a part of ancient Japan. She didn't mind it, though T'Ume had yet to visit again the lingering memorial of her past life, the first time having been enough to confirm her memories. And she certainly wasn't going to let Shinta see it, not in the delicate state he was in.

Though at first unsettled and disbelieving of the memories in her own mind, T'Ume had had time enough to come to terms with what she now knew to be true. With the same calm and determination that she showed in all things, she had examined her life up until this point and compared it with the recollections of a life lived centuries ago. They were separate, yes, but in each time she was still the same person, whether her name was T'Ume or Tomoe. Though her experiences in each life were vastly different, her body even changed from what she had once known, that didn't mean she had altered in any way internally. Her katra, or, as the humans called it, her soul was still the same; her family had suspected since she was very young that her spirit was 'old', a few centuries at least.

Even with a scientifically grounded age, the belief, for lack of a better word, in a 'soul' remained strong on her world. Most humans had left behind the more literal interpretation of a spiritual essence, but Vulcans continued the practices that had been paramount for thousands of years, the most important the storing of a deceased Vulcan's katra in the Hall of Thought. While it was somewhat unorthodox to assume she, as a Vulcan, had been born with a human soul, she would not deny it, for she knew it was true. She knew who she was, both T'Ume and Tomoe, and perhaps even more people than that. Who knew how often a spirit was reborn? While her name and the place of her birth might change, she as an entity did not.

And this seemed to be the case for Shinta as well; his actions and mannerisms were very different from those of the man she remembered, but that didn't change that fact that he still was that man. Just…how he would have been if he had not taken up a killing sword. Years ago, T'Ume had wondered what he would have been like if he had been allowed to live a simple life, free of conflict and bloodshed. And, even though he was a Starfleet officer now, he had spoken to her of his younger years, the large garden he had maintained on his family's estate until he had left for the Academy, barely making it in time before his sixteenth birthday. Shinta had hinted in a few conversations that, once he reached retirement, he would return to his home and that peaceful, earthbound existence.

But only after he had helped as many as he was able, through the medicine he was so adept at administering and the defense of the Federation itself, through his service onboard a starship. It was the ideal life his spirit seemed to want, to _need_, and T'Ume was not going to begrudge him it by reminding him that there was more to him than just the person he was today.

_Who you were does not have to replace who you are, Shinta…you are capable of being both, you **are **both, but…for now, just be whoever you wish to be._

Her protective determinations reestablished and strengthened, T'Ume turned to follow Shinta, smiling inwardly as he accidentally careened into a flower stall, his actions made careless in his haste and mildly abashed state. With a gentle 'Oro', bright red hair and countless slender leaves and fragrant flowers went flying, the small man lost in a cascade of sweet-smelling, expensive wares. An actual smile emerging ever-so-slightly on her face, T'Ume hurried to straighten out the mess, more grateful than she could say for the chance to experience this lightness in her heart once again and without the loss and pain that had accompanied it the first time.

_To protect you always, anata…adun…my t'hy'la…_

Normally, T'Ume would have known someone was following them, but she was distracted by her thoughts and thoroughly engaged with placating a furious stall owner. Added to this was the skill of their stalker, a perfected technique of hiding his presence honed over lifetimes of practice. This was not the first time he had hunted his prey, but, by the look of things, it would be the last.

After all, he had finally found the one he had been looking for all this time.

******

"I still can't believe Shinta is this 'Hitokiri Battousai' person," Beverly commented to Troi as they shared a few quiet moments in the lounge, the recreation area mainly deserted with most officers on leave. A small glass of iced orange tea was still on the table, her hands cupped around it, but she had yet to taste it. "The more information we get on him the less like Shinta he seems."

"I don't think that's the case," Troi replied, looking just as contemplative and concerned as the Doctor felt. Her drink had also remained motionless for the twenty minutes they had already spent at the small table, tucked away in a corner against the windows. The inside view of the immense Space Dock was stunning, but they hardly noticed it. "It isn't so much the assassin that reminds me of him than it is the 'wanderer' his daughter-in-law writes him as. Even though Chizuru Himura never met him, her husband seemed to remember very well, not only the time he spent with his father, but things his mother and other acquaintances spoke of."

"Didn't Data say he found a government file on him?" Beverly asked, remembering something mentioned later in their briefing a few days ago. "Recorded by a police officer, I think; wasn't his name Goro Fujita, or something like that?"

"Yes, but there were rumors circulating that that wasn't his real name. Whatever the case, he seemed to have a great deal of interaction with Kenshin, especially in the years 1878 and 1879," Troi said and nodded as Beverly looked at her with some surprise. "The first was the year that Kenshin, if the reports are accurate, would have turned twenty-eight years of age. A great deal of his later exploits toward the protection of Japan and the populace occurred during this time."

"Which might explain why Shinta is remembering all this now," Beverly rationalized. "His strongest memories were created when he was about this age. So we can expect these to surface first, but what about the rest of his life. Surely he wouldn't…remember his own death, would he?"

"We can't know for sure," Troi said sadly, shaking her head. "But I hope he doesn't; from what Chizuru said in her memoirs, Kenshin died of some kind of debilitating disease, but it didn't sound familiar. You might want to go over that section; you should have better luck than me at trying to figure out just what it was."

"Speaking of his health," Beverly murmured, appearing suddenly worried, though this concern had been nagging at the back of her mind for several days now. "I can't help but wonder what affect these 'skills' of his will have on his body. To be able to crack a duranium deck is impressive, but the damage it must have done to his muscles and tissues…he seemed fine when I examined him in the brig, but if he continues to do this over a long period of time, it _will _have negative effects. When he gets back I think I'll bring him in for a more thorough once-over; if he was…well, if he was a larger man I might not be so worried, but since…"

"Since he's so small," Troi replied with a smile, though she shared Beverly's same feelings. Though certainly not in a romantic way, they both found themselves very protective of the lieutenant, almost in a sisterly or even motherly manner. "I know his actual age, but I still can't help thinking of him as fresh out of the Academy; with that face and build, on top of how he acts, it's rather endearing. And he's so polite! I almost smile every time he calls me 'dono'."

"I guess that's why I can't imagine him as an assassin," Beverly admitted with a sigh, standing to leave. It was obvious she wasn't going to finish her tea and she had a half-shift starting in Sickbay soon. "Or even a swordsman. Although…in the few times I've seen him work during a crisis, his focus has been astounding, better than many doctors with years of experience over him. If he applied that concentration and drive to fighting, then he might fit the bill…"

Troi stood as well, eyes grave as she nodded in agreement. "From what I saw in his mind, I know it's entirely possible. I feel so certain that he _is _Kenshin Himura; even with a different setting and situation, I saw the same kind of reactions and actions that we see in Shinta today. They're like the same person on different days, but Shinta doesn't seem to realize it."

"If he does…," Beverly started to say, then stopped, knowing she had to alter her words. "When he does realize it, I hope it's easy for him. Looking at all that happened to him in the past, I don't think it would be very fair for him to endure more hardship."

"I would have to agree," Troi responded, expression still glum. "If Goro Fujita is to be believed, Kenshin had a lot of hurdles to overcome in his life, though he got through it, somehow. I hope Shinta is free of all that."

Beverly was about to add her wholehearted agreement when, much to their surprise, Geordi came jogging through the door, obviously out of breath. Luckily, the lounge was empty by this time, the shift change resulting in a temporarily deserted state. So, the Chief Engineer was unnoticed save by them as he came up, looking both excited and agitated.

"What is it?" Troi asked, concerned.

"We…found out…who sent…the message," Geordi panted, though he was already turning and motioning for them to follow him out the door.

"But I thought it would take at least a week!" Beverly exclaimed, then realized something more. "And why didn't you just tell us over the Comm link?"

Without pausing in his return jog down the corridor, Geordi rushed to explain. "The pathway simply opened up on its own, as if its sender had set the message to reveal its origin at a set time, but I don't think that's the case. My best guess is that he knew we were looking for him and allowed us to find him because his plans were already underway. I couldn't tell you over the Comm because, with as much skill as he's shown, he might have tapped the transmission."

"So you know who it is?" Troi asked anxiously as they reached the turbolift, Geordi hastily setting the bridge as the destination.

"Yeah," Geordi responded and the look on his face made the two women's blood run cold. "We traced it to his quarters and found another message, this time telling us that he has narrowed down his murder list to just one."

"He's a crewmember?!"

Geordi nodded, emerging on the bridge with a grim-faced Picard and Riker waiting for them. "And he's already left the ship. We're looking for him right now, but we might be too late. And since we don't know who it is that he's after…"

Shaking his head unhappily, Troi and Beverly were almost unable to ask just who it was that had betrayed and threatened the _Enterprise_, but they had to know.

"Who is it?"

When Picard answered their question in a low, low voice, they somehow _knew_ and, when they voiced their concerns and their absolute conviction as to who the target was, the rest of the command staff, now present, knew it, too.

A hand over her heart, Beverly whispered. "…_Shinta_."

"He's after Shinta!!"

******

"I don't remember this park from my last visit," Shinta commented as he and T'Ume ambled along a narrow dirt pathway, the sakura trees around them rustling softly in the early night. Though it wasn't very late, the moon, full and shining, was already high in the sky; however, thin, narrow clouds had been gathering all afternoon. Even with its light still strong, a haze was drifting across the bright disk and the scent of moisture was heavy in the air. If he was any judge, Shinta was certain there would be rain, and soon, but he was reluctant to end his outing with his Vulcan friend. "Then again, Sessha certainly doesn't know _all _of Kyoto."

"This is a recent addition," T'Ume stated in her usual way, contentment visible in her eyes and hidden in her voice. "The trees were transplanted from an area outside the city, donated by a family in Tokyo who own the land. There should be benches and a small clearing at the top of this hill, with an overhang at one end."

Giving her an inquiring look, Shinta had to ask. "How do you know all this?"

"I read the sign before entering," T'Ume replied as she glanced at him with a raised brow. "It was on the wall next to the entrance."

"Ahh…," Shinta mumbled, blushing again. "I did not see it…"

T'Ume did not reply, giving him time to recover his dignity. In comfortable, companionable silence, they made their way up the slightly winding path, enjoying the gentle night and the company of each other. Their fingers still touched and Shinta found himself marveling at the warmth of her hand against his, very much like what he had felt when she had mind melded with him earlier that day. Was she using her skills again? Or was it simply T'Ume herself that made him feel this way, at peace and…and happy? For Shinta really was happy, more than he had ever been in what felt like his entire life.

Longer, even, than that, but he chose not to think about that, focusing instead on this time, this moment, serene and wonderful with rosy blossoms drifting across his vision on rain-scented winds.

_Although…it is a little sad, to watch them fall. It is as if something is being lost…_

"I am…," T'Ume began to say and shocked Shinta by hesitating. "I am…glad to be here with you, Shinta. And I would…like…"

She paused again and, as they stood at the edge of the pathway, right before it opened up into the promised clearing surrounded by fragrant, beautiful trees, Shinta felt his heart slow, then pound out a jackhammer rhythm. T'Ume had never acted this way before and, though unusual, he felt his mind and emotions soar at what he knew, what he _hoped _she was going to say. He would have said it, too, but she had beaten him to it.

_T'Ume, I…_

"…I would like to spend all my time with you," T'Ume said at last, a fraction of her Vulcan composure falling away to reveal that feeling that washed over Shinta in an endless, glorious wave. "I would like to share the rest of my life with you."

_…I love you, too…_

"The both of you took a long while getting here, you know; it's after the time I set. It isn't like you to be so late."

Startled to hear that familiar voice, the two of them looked out into the clearing, where a figure was highlighted by the last fading glow of the moon before it was completely blocked out. The sense of rain was heavier in the silence and the wind had increased in strength, pale, fallen petals swirling around them almost frantically. The night had gained an air of menace, the trees now nearly lifeless in their struggles amidst the darkness and the clouds were as a living thing, rolling and churning in the sky above them. This was made all the more apparent and amplified by the two gleaming, deadly katanas, the swords traditional but no less dangerous, clutched in each of the figure's hands.

Stunned and shaken, Shinta could only whisper out one word, voice hushed and violet eyes wide with shock and a hint of deadly recognition.

"_You_…"

******

It's a cliffhanger…please don't kill me!!!

(*runs away and hides, but is driven back to the computer by Chibi Shido and Ryu Soma, who are brandishing cattle prods*)

Fine, fine…next chapter is an event I'm sure a lot of you can see coming and, if it seems predictable, then it just is. Battle is coming soon and the realization of an identity at last. But the price, however, will be high. A few notes, though, before I go and some discussion.

One, I couldn't remember if the place where katras are stored really is called the Hall of Thought or is actually something else. If it is and you know for sure (I had read somewhere what the name was, but I couldn't find that source again!), please tell me! The last thing I want in this fic is a glaring inaccuracy. By the stars, if only I could find a copy of _Spock's World _again…also, **t'hy'la **(if I spelled it right; I suspect that I did not. Darn Vulcan words…) can mean three things: friend, companion, lover. Pick one or assume all, it's your choice.

And to **Shinji Ikari**: I hope T'Ume's thoughts and explanations cleared up a few things for you, though I think I'll restate for the sake of clarity. The best way to see it as would be as if a person had amnesia and was taken to another country. You're still the same, the qualities that you were born with and the traits and quirks that come naturally will gradually return, but are reshaped and altered somewhat by the new environment and the loss of the old. T'Ume knows who she is and thinks of herself as both the human and the Vulcan, because she hasn't really changed at all. At least, inwardly. Even though she didn't remember who she was, she still tended to be quiet and not very likely to show extreme emotion (like a lot of Vulcans, really, but it is how she would have been anyway). She still liked flowers (you know, in the _Reflection _flashbacks of her waiting for Akira she was working with plants and such) and, like she did in the movie, would drink alcohol when…erm, would stressed be the word to use? Vulcan's don't get stressed too easily, but T'Ume is a slight exception because that is simply who she is.

Remembering her past life didn't change who she was; I think of it as adding to who she is now and the years she has lived in this life. As a matter of fact, at 64, she's lived longer than she did as Tomoe! And to think, I Vulcan can even live up to 300 hundred years…though 200-250 is the norm. Basically, what it all boils down to is that neither the name and life of T'Ume or Tomoe is more important than the other, because they are one and the same. And the same goes for Shinta.

Although, expect backstory on T'Ume's life before all this and her family in either a sidestory or some future sequence (I haven't decided yet). And I do mean ALL her family…be on the look out for something titled "Her Most Beautiful Smile". The bulk of that is in the works, but I know what I want.

Anywhoo, I suppose that's all (or as much of it as I can remember). I might not have the next chapter out very soon (*ducks behind desk*), as I have a big research paper I'm working on, but I'll get back as quickly as possible.

Ja ne!


	11. The Sound of Snow Falling, Part 3

**AN: **Well…I have the author's notes at the top this time, so I don't…ruin the mood at the end of this chapter. And that's all I've got to say, really; I just know certain individuals are going to hurt me after this chapter (*cough, coughKARIcough*), but this has got to be done. The next chapter is aftermath and, although I won't have any author's notes at the bottom, there will be translation notes for the Vulcan words. And if any of the Vulcan words are wrong, then tell me and I'll fix them later. Oh yes, and the spelling of all the _Rurouni Kenshin _related words were garnered from the translated manga from Shonen Jump, so don't give me no lip (but they might not match the spelling I've been using thus far; the story of my life, I guess).

        And so we begin…

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan**

Sequence Three: The Sound of Snow Falling, Part Three

        "I can see you're a little surprised," Ensign Jiro Kuronobu said nonchalantly as he stood unbendingly in the increasingly powerful wind. The first few thick, heavy drops of rain were beginning to fall, but his satisfied smile showed no sign of disappearing. On the contrary, the state of the weather seemed to please him, his hands tightening on the hilts of his katanas almost eagerly. "I guess I'm used to it now and, besides, it doesn't really matter; at least you're here at last."

        "But…Jiro," Shinta tried to say, shock still beating heavy in his chest. Under different circumstances, he would have been happy to see his friend and would have at least welcomed his temporary company…but something in Jiro's eyes caused Shinta to hold his ground, guard up and warnings pounding through his head. Something was wrong with Jiro, very, very wrong, and there seemed to be a hint of madness in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

        "Isn't it obvious?" Jiro responded easily, smile still in place. The expression seemed to stretch his face somehow, twisting the familiar features into an almost grotesque mask of delight and trained insanity. Never had Shinta seen such a thing and dread began to clench a cold knot in his stomach. "I was supposed to focus on the entire crew of the _Enterprise_; it was what I was paid to do. But after I saw what you did in the holodeck…I knew my long wait had finally come to an end. I had been searching _so long_, I had all but given up hope. Yet here you are and I can finally have my due."

        "I don't understand," Shinta said cautiously, more grateful than he could say for the reassuring presence of T'Ume at his side. Though the Vulcan had yet to say a word, he could feel her tense readiness at his shoulder, just see her dark, focused eyes out of the corner of his vision. Even as his heart lurched and skipped a beat at the thought of her being in danger, there was no way Shinta could deny that he partially wanted her with him.

        As long as T'Ume remained, the darkness was somehow held at bay.

        "I suppose you wouldn't," Jiro allowed, looking thoughtful. He was leaning slightly back, gazing with that wrong-shaped smile to the churning black sky above. "You can barely remember anything…but it's enough for me. I can't wait any longer."

        "Wait for what?" Shinta questioned carefully, weighing his options. He and T'Ume had left their phasers onboard the _Enterprise _and, while Jiro didn't seem to have any modern weapons, the swords were deadly enough. He seemed so out of place; clad in dark, moss green tunic with long sleeves and form-fitting leggings of black, he hardly looked like the Starfleet officer Shinta had always known him to be. A long, thick scarf of blood red was flapping around his neck and his grayish/blue hair was blowing wildly in the wind. He was like some kind of specter, his green eyes deepening in their jade color until Shinta hardly recognized them anymore.

        _What…what happened to you…?_

        "For what?" Jiro repeated, voice blank for a moment. His gaze then hardened, growing angry and…old. "For what you owe me, _Shinta_."

        "But I…," Shinta started to say, but was suddenly interrupted by a blur of motion as Jiro lunged forward, moving even faster than Shinta himself had during the incident with the Hiruma brothers. Before he knew what was happening, one of the katanas was flying towards T'Ume's chest, the weapon having been thrown when Jiro had seen her hand fly for the communicator on her uniform.

        _No._

        Shinta heard a single, pronounced heartbeat within his breast and, once it was completed, he found in his hand the surprisingly heavy weight of a katana. Somehow, someway, he had caught the sword by its hilt at the last second, pushing T'Ume back with his other hand as he did so. Violet eyes wide with shock, Shinta nearly dropped the weapon, the last two seconds a blur in his mind. He knew he was fast, but he'd just barely been able to catch Jiro's initial movement before the katana was already flying past him.

        …or was that not the case? Had he really been able to follow what the other man had done, even though Jiro had been moving faster than any human? And just how was Jiro doing this? Was he…like Shinta?

        "Nice," Jiro said with that same smile, looking not at all perturbed that his attack hadn't worked to the extent he had wanted it to. While T'Ume had not suffered injury, the tip of the sword had indeed punctured her communicator. "I see that confusion on your face, but I now know for certain. It _is _you this time."

        "This time?" Shinta asked, knowing there was no way he could not. He retained his hold on the sword, unknowingly shifting his body position bit by bit, a balanced stance that he didn't realize he knew slowly emerging. "Have you…?"

        "Faced someone like you before?" Jiro finished for him, tilting his head with a tolerant smile. The rain was still scattered, not enough to interfere with their talk, but thunder was rumbling heavily above, an ominous, siren call of the storm soon to come. "Yes, more times now than I can count. There have been so many who looked like you, who nearly fooled me. Men and women alike, they matched you in appearance or personality, but each time I was disappointed. Each time, they died without ever giving me what I wanted."

        "Such murders would have been recorded," T'Ume's calm, strong voice stated with utmost control into the darkness, no sign on her face at all of her near brush with death. In fact, she herself had been moving to intercept, though, even with her hereditary swiftness, would have been a few seconds too late. Which meant that Jiro himself was faster than a Vulcan…as was Shinta. "And there have been none in regards to red-headed and violet-eyed individuals."

        Jiro chuckled, running his free hand through his hair, his eyes still on Shinta though it had been T'Ume who had asked the question. "Not in this lifetime, no. But there have been others, in years past. For over four hundred and fifty years I've been wandering in a reoccurring, endless existence, looking for you. I'm grateful, in a way; I've seen so many more battles than I ever expected to, seen mankind fall deeper into corruption than I thought possible. I killed my fair share of those corrupt and those that were not, but after that last 'Great War', _this _world slowly emerged. Then, I wasn't just fighting against humans any more; there were new species out in the universe for me to murder, new, worthy challenges that were something to look forward to. But still, throughout all of that, I continued to search for _you_."

        "Then you claim to have been reborn over and over again since before the twenty-first century," T'Ume said, making it a statement rather than a question.

        "My first life was during the late 1800s," Jiro replied with an even broader smile, his jade eyes boring directly into Shinta's. "When I first knew you."

        "…that's not true," Shinta said softly, though he knew in his own heart what was indeed the truth. Unbidden, those dark, dark memories resurfaced, causing a hand to rise slowly, inexorably to his left cheek. "I…I'm not…"

        "You know what you are," Jiro claimed with utter conviction, his hand tightening on the hilt of his katana and his body tense beneath the fabric of his clothing. He still stood straight and upright, as opposed to Shinta's slightly hunched position, but his sword was held out horizontally in front of him, steady in his right hand. "You know it's there, deep inside your soul: the person who you used to be. When I first saw you, I knew I would have to test you as I did all the others. But I had a task onboard the _Enterprise_, so, rather than simply challenging you in battle, I studied you instead. I waited and, after a time, I wondered whether or not you were really he. Though your appearance matched, there was too much the healer in you without the trace of the wanderer I expected to see."

        _"The bastard went by rurouni."_

        Taking a few steps forward, Jiro slowly approached them, unfazed by the now steady, even pour of rain or the sakura petals he crushed beneath his booted feet. "But then…on your twenty-eighth birthday, things began to change. Your speech, the way you acted, and, of course, the techniques you displayed in the holodeck and against those fools. I would know those skills anywhere, just as I would know **you **anywhere. And now I've come for my due."  
        Jiro grinned, humor emerging suddenly in the distorted mask his features had become. "Didn't I tell you that you owed me a lot?"

        Before his conscious mind could comprehend what was happening, Jiro was directly in front of Shinta, the blade of his katana flashing in the lightning as it swung in a deadly arc from the side. Heart in his throat, Shinta was certain he would be sliced open, but the blade of his own weapon whistled through the air, blocking Jiro with a high, ringing sound. Though he had matched the attack, Shinta could barely keep his hold on the katana, his mind reeling from what was happening and the words and images raging across his vision. Plus, Jiro was a larger man than he and Shinta felt his feet slide through the growing mud.

        Pressing his advantage, Jiro pulled his sword back, shifting his hold to an underhanded one so that the deadly crescent swung in a rapid uppercut, just barely catching the front of Shinta's clothing before he managed to stumble back. The top part of his uniform was sliced open, revealing the teal undershirt beneath. Quickly realizing the cloth would hinder him, Shinta ripped off the top of his jumpsuit, resuming the half-remembered stance just before a heavy blow came down directly from above.

        _Disrupt! Break his stance!_

The required counteraction flashed through Shinta's mind and he _knew _what to do, but the unfamiliar motions were slow coming to his limbs and instead a gash was opened up on his right arm, the sword not in position quick enough. Jumping back, Shinta glanced down with startled violet eyes to the six inch mark, dripping blood that instantly washed away in the heavy rain. He did not have much time to dwell on it, though, as he was forced to jump clear again, his light weight the only thing saving him from another side slash.

        Landing heavily, Shinta fought to keep his sword up, the pain from the wound beginning to rush up his arm in hot waves. He shook his head to free his soaked hair from whatever moisture he could and watched with wary eyes as Jiro slowly approached him.

        "…this will not do at all, _Shinta_," Jiro said, once again putting an odd emphasis on his name. "I might kill you before I get what I want."

        There was nothing Shinta could say in response to that, but he was spared the task of trying as T'Ume came out of nowhere, strong, possibly deadly hands reaching for Jiro's neck. Shinta knew she would try the Vulcan Neck Pinch to disable him, but he was too quick for her, twisting out of the way. She saw what he was trying, however, and pivoted to face him, spinning a kick in his direction. He blocked her with a guarded arm and his katana flashed, catching her side before she could dodge away.

        Instantly, Shinta was sprinting towards her, skidding to a halt on the slick ground and seeing the dark green blood beginning to soak into her uniform just above her hip. "T'Ume!"

        "I will be fine," she said in that same voice, those few words more reassuring than Shinta would have thought possible. As one, the two of them faced Jiro once more, the other man looking slightly annoyed.

        "This isn't your fight, woman," Jiro stated with a hint of anger, but he suddenly smiled again, as if he had remembered something. "But, if I recall, it had taken a woman to get what I wanted last time. Can you serve the same purpose as that girl did, I wonder?"

        Shinta thought Jiro was going to attack again and readied the sword in his hand, though he doubted more than ever his ability to stop the other man. But Jiro did something entirely different. His dark jade eyes narrowed for a moment and his expression froze with a second of concentration. Then, his eyes widened again and Shinta felt _something _go pounding past him, a force that wasn't physical in the literal sense, but as to what it actually was he did not know.

        His own lack of knowledge, however, mattered little as he turned with sudden fear to T'Ume, knowing somehow that she was his target instead of himself.

        At first, there didn't seem to be anything wrong, but, as the wind buffeted them from all sides and lightning lanced across the sky, she didn't move at all. Arms at her sides and legs braced against the gusts, only her eyes showed any kind of movement, calm and a deep fury hidden within. Quite suddenly, Shinta realized that she couldn't move and, while she was still breathing, an absolute knowledge exploded in his skull, the force of it so overwhelming that a hand went to his forehead. There was an actual pain there and his vision swam, but he _knew_.

        He **_knew_**.

        "_I've known you for years; don't try and hide it anymore."_

_        "A patriot of Choshu, using some ancient sword-style called Hiten Mitsurugi."_

_        "You know me; I have my own way of getting things done."_

_        "Now, if only you would turn over that odd blade…"_

_        "Do you have any idea how much you owe me?"_

_        "If you've something to say, speak with that sword!"_

_        "I know how to keep him in line."_

_        "In truth, you are he…I see the bloodlust in your eyes."_

        _Kuronobu…Kurogasa…_

_        …why didn't I know?_

        "Nikaido Heiho…the Nikaido method…," Shinta whispered into the dark, hands falling away as rainwater ran down his face. Red was beginning to drip constantly down his sleeve and the thunder reverberated through his bones and across the puddles of water on the ground, disturbing the sakura petals that floated lifelessly on their surfaces. "…Shin no Ippo."

        "Yes," Jiro said in response and smiled at him, the contortion of his face at last complete. Staring at him with widened, disbelieving eyes, Shinta saw a shift more dramatic in those features, another face from another time superimposing itself over the friend he had thought he'd known.

        Hair with a darker gray, held back by a band around his head; different clothing, a long gi instead of a tunic; eyes of mainly black, except when he used the spell upon himself; older, more years upon his face. The voice, though, was the same, the stance, the movements, the smile that corrupted his countenance. The madness in his gaze, the low, twisted laugh the seemed to hover through the rain-thickened night, audible even through the rush of wind and the thrashing of the now-wasted trees.

        "…Udo Jin'e…"

        "Uhu hu hu…," Jiro chuckled softly, satisfaction in the very lines of his body. "You remember me…you remember…No one has spoken that name to be in nearly five centuries. How good it feels to hear it again."

        Shinta knew his shoulders trembled, but he could not stop them. A storm of a different kind was raging inside him, memories at last torn free. But they were wild, uncontrollable and he could not sort through the tempest that was a life he had lived long ago. "You…and I…"

        "_I've known you for years…"_

_        "Within every fiber of your being, you are truly..."_

"…hitokiri?" Shinta said softly, hollowly into the night. He didn't know where the word had come from, an ancient Japanese that he had barely taken the time to learn. He shouldn't have known what it meant, but he did. "A manslayer?"

        "Of course," Jiro replied with a smile, speaking as thought it was the most rational thing in the world. "What else would you be? Now, give me what I have come for or I shall take it from you in any way that I can…"

        Fearing, Shinta found himself backing up, while a thousand voices seemed to scream at him in his head. What to do, what not to do, what to say to stop him, what to say to make him finish it. So many choices, so many actions, experience and directions, torn and wild so that all he heard was the frantic, cacophonous sound of it all, terrible and consuming. The sword he held was so familiar, an extension of himself, but his hand was at war with itself to toss it away or attack, indecision and fury and pain and fear and a timeless sorrow causing his fingers to clench and loosen erratically.

        There was nothing he could do save take step after step away from his supposed friend; the memories were free, but in a violent, deadly maelstrom that dragged him down and down and down into the bottomless, shadowed depths. If only he could find some center, some path through the tangled labyrinth that his mind had become, but there was no light in the darkness, no hand upon his own. Even with all the bravery and skill and confidence and drive and ability needed to save his own life at his very fingertips, he could not grasp it, so torn was he.

        For his heart was rejecting itself.

        Jiro was there in an instant, body outlined in vivid, glaring lines by blue-tinged lightning, the twisted dagger piercing the sky. The light danced off the edge of a blade, the curved, elegant face of death an intimate relation he knew all too well. Shinta knew he would respond, that he could defend or parry or attack, yet he did not, for fear of all things dark and terrible. He could see the blood waiting for him, knew what lay beyond this last tattered and broken barrier. And he refused it, refused the weapon in his hand and the blackness in his heart and the possibility of knowing himself.

        _…no…_

"**Kroykah!!**" Came an enraged, defiant shout as T'Ume broke free of what held her, shooting past Shinta and catching his katana as it fell from his hand. Though her speed was just barely enough to match him, T'Ume blocked Jiro's strike, using her superior strength to push him back and away. She crouched in front of Shinta, her stance that of her people, who had learned and still practiced sword arts from millennia before.

        "Not this day, niorah qom'i," T'Ume said in her usual voice, the fury from before once more carefully masked in her tones. Her eyes, however, told a different story, and burned like dark coals. "I will not let you harm him."

        Shocked, Shinta stared at her back, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Even as he continued to fight against the tempest inside his mind, a new fear grew into being, something twisting inside him as he realized that T'Ume was putting her own body and life between his and Jiro's killing blade.

        _You can't…you mustn't…_

        "I was wondering when you would break my technique," Jiro responded thoughtfully, standing straight once more, rain running down his clothes and face. "As a Vulcan, your mental abilities should make it extremely simple for you to throw off something as basic as the Shin no Ippo."

        "Then why did you use it?" T'Ume questioned evenly, not moving a muscle as she watched him with a fiery gaze. "Why even reveal it if you know it is ineffective?"

        Jiro chuckled again, gazing off into the trees and the fragile petals being ripped from their branches as an unforgiving storm tore at them. "Uhu hu hu…do really think that after centuries of existence, that would remain the only thing I am capable of?"

        Shinta somehow saw it coming before T'Ume did, though he knew not how. It was a sense, an extra perception that he wasn't aware that he was capable of discerning; it stemmed from the destructive tumult in and around his heart, but he was able to grasp enough of it to know when the danger came crashing down upon them. Forcing his weakened limbs into action, Shinta lunged forward, knocking T'Ume aside as a burst of what he could only describe as mental power blasted where they were standing. It was as a second wind in the air, mighty and in a transparent form of fine, cutting blades. The trees nearest to them were neatly sliced in half four or five times over, petals and leaves split as they were thrown through the air; even raindrops were blown aside or exploded into scatters of even tinier fragments of liquid. Multiple gashes were torn open all over Shinta's body, tatters of fabric scattering into the air to be instantly lost in the turbulent wind. The scent of blood instantly tainted the air and its odor filled his mouth and nose.

        A single long, thin cut had been neatly slashed onto his face, running horizontally across and up his left cheek. Irrationally, one thought was all that passed through his mind.

        _It will leave a scar…_

        However, not much more than that had a chance to surface, as Jiro was hurtling towards this him once more, a tornado of telepathic destruction preceding him. Shinta was forced to dodge to the side, feeling the backlash of the invisible power tug and tear at his clothes, mud flying up in Jiro's wake. It came crashing back down in a wave, nearly catching Shinta before he stumbled clear. Spinning around as quickly as he could, he saw with widened, fearing eyes as T'Ume and Jiro locked blades once more, the Vulcan hardly flinching as similar gashes to his own were opened up all down her arms and across her shoulders. Shinta could actually see the dark green blood go flying and was moving before he even realized he had decided upon the action.

        Even without a weapon, he leapt at Jiro's back, the only thought in his mind that he had to get the madman away from T'Ume. He must have heard Shinta coming, however, as he knocked T'Ume away with a savage kick, pivoting where he stood to strike a massive blow against Shinta's midsection. Utilizing barely accessible reflexes, Shinta was already attempting to twist clear, but he felt the burn of a substantial wound on his stomach, his arm going to stem the tide of blood. He just managed to land on his feet, sliding through a thick muck, but another brutal mental wave slammed into him, not so much a cutting tool now as it was a ramming one.

        Thrown end over end, Shinta crashed back against a tree, sliding down the faded white trunk and leaving a bloody smear in his wake. His vision swam for a moment, his eyes blinded by blood and dizziness and he knew his utter vulnerability in that moment. Once more, his mind and heart screamed and howled out instructions, demanding and begging and pleading for him to do something, yet Shinta just could not find a way to sort it all, to calm or part the fearsome, feral sea of his memories.

        Still, in spite of it all, he lurched to his feet, coughing up blood into his hand and trying to find either Jiro or T'Ume in the rain-soaked darkness. For several terrible seconds, there was nothing save the mourning groan of the wind and the resonant roar of the thunder above; and then lightning flashed, illuminating the torn clearing with a flare of piercing light.

        The brilliant arc of a blade was tearing down from above him, a maddened smile beneath familiar, insane eyes powering the hand that held it. A great, tortured, satisfied laugh rang through his ears, drowning out the rage of the storm and the pounding desperation that was his heart. Shinta tried to dodge or block, to do **anything**, but a torrent of invisible scythes cascaded all around him, cutting through his flesh and clothing, just as despair and fear and loss and worthlessness cleaved through his weakened heart.

        "**I have come for you, BATTOUSAI!!!**"

        _To protect you…_, a calm, knowing voice said softly in Shinta's mind, over a telepathic link he hadn't known they shared.

        And his world slowed, halted. Time ground to a stop, the rain seeming to hover still in the air, moving at a crawl so that the scene before him was perfectly outlined, clear in another burst of lightning that went on into forever. T'Ume, emerging at his left shoulder from the forest behind him, had not been quick enough to block the blow, already having been delayed by the mental attack Jiro already had in motion. Instead, she had taken the blow upon her own body, her sword sweeping up from her right side to cut through Jiro's unprotected left. Distracted as he was by his attack on Shinta, he was unable to deflect her blow, a tremendous gash opened wide, up from his hip to his collarbone.

        T'Ume had taken one from her chest to her stomach, the tip of the blade dragging deep as it went down. Two sprays of blood met between them, red and green mixing to form a sickly black that was instantly washed away by the swarm of rain. The two were propelled away from each other, Jiro's momentum and T'Ume's strength forcing it. As the eternal second passed at last, T'Ume's fell back against the stunned, frozen Shinta, sliding against him until she hit the ground. Jiro slammed into the mud several feet away, rolling and flipping until finally skidding to a stop.

        When time resumed its normal flow, empty, halted eyes turned slowly to T'Ume, faded violet staring hollowly at the spread of blood and the battered form that did not stir. Beside it lay a stained katana, gleaming in the violent stormlight.

        All at once, he had what he needed to find his way.

        _Battousai…_

        A different phenomena occurred now, time seeming to leap forward in speed or to jerk back to a slow crawl, seconds seeming to fly one moment than pause in forever the next. Yet he did not care, as narrowed, hardened eyes of glowing amber took in the sight of the sword upon the ground and, before a breath could be taken, it was in his hand, heavy, familiar, _wanted_. In an instant, the pathways of his mind were cleared, a beacon of crimson light pointing the way so that he followed unerringly, slender legs pumping as he shot with god-like speed through the rain, far faster than anything he had accomplished before. Ahead of him his target was stumbling to his feet, seemingly disoriented from the previous blow.

        _Good…_

        Weapon shifting to the proper position, eerie eyes that glinted like stars in the darkness approached with silent, unstoppable haste, another second leaping forward so that he was _there_. _There_, with his blade slicing forward through the deluge, ringing with deadly speed and power. The sword song was so familiar, welcome and close, so that there was no hesitation, no doubt in his mind. Someone was going to die tonight and by his blade.

        That was all that mattered, even as his target looked to him at the very last moment and said, with a familiar, weary smile: "Thank you. It's been so very long…"

        And then the body was falling, a burst of red rushing out to further stain his clothing and impassive face, though one last, murmured sentiment wheezed out upon a dying breath, broken and strained. "What a nice…feeling."

        As the body of Udo Jin'e hit the muddied ground with a wet thud, Hitokiri Battousai surveyed the area with cold, golden eyes, unfeeling, unshaken, _empty_. The katana was flicked out against the rain, ridding it of the blood and he moved to sheath it, then realized that he had no sheath.

        _This sword is not my own…I do not…I do not carry one…_

_        …I do not._

_        …I…do…**not**…_

"…anata…"

        The old presence fell away and devastated violet eyes were restored, turning a tear-filled gaze back to the stained tree and the slender body that lay supine beneath it. A katana thunked into the mud, forgotten and discarded.

        "…anata…"

        With a stumbling, erratic run, he was at her side, lifting the torn form into his arms, gasping and choking at the tightness in his throat and the unending zephyr of his soul. Yet the dark, dark eyes that gazed back at him, the forgiving smile that greeted him, stilled these motions of his, quelled the storm so that he heard her, even as the life flowed out of her body.

        "Anata…I am sorry," she whispered, one slender, bruised hand attempting to rise. Somehow, she was able to brush her fingers over his left cheek, her own blood mixing with his. "I did not want this…a second time."

        It was only then that he realized that, as she had rushed past him, the tip of her sword sweeping up had cut a perpendicular gash across his face, bisecting the first.

        "My ashaya, my mene," she continued to whisper, the life and intelligence and emotion he had known so well beginning to fade from the dark, dark depths of her timeless, familiar gaze. "My darling…"

        Her eyes slid shut.

        "Aishiteru…Kenshin."

        Her hand fell limp and, his heart breaking, Himura Kenshin bowed his head, tears streaming down his face through the rain and blood, silent, agonized sobs shaking his entire body. He held her close, hands trembling and desperate, fighting with a child's fear and his own devastation, trying to keep some part of her with him, alive and whole.

        The vain, worthless effort, the uncaring fall of the rain and the heartless buffeting of the wind, the flow of blood over his lap and clothing, cut through to the very core of his heart and soul, a scar deeper than the one now re-carved onto his face.

        He knew who he was; he knew _everything_…and it did not matter at all.

        When Captain Picard and the others finally located him using the signal from his discarded communicator, Kenshin was still huddled beneath that tree, frayed and limp sakura petals scattered around him and floating on diluted pools of mixed blood and water, or buried within blackened muck that had once been the lovingly tended grounds. The storm had subsided and dawn was breaking, uncertain light washing over a wounded world. 

Time had passed, the tempest had gone, yet still he wept, alone amid the tattered remains of a life lost for a second time. And, though the sky was clear, he felt the brush of coldest snow against his skin.

******

_kroykah_-stop

_niorah qom'i_-dark human

_ashaya_-(used as a noun) love

_mene_-life


	12. I Know Tears, Part 1

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan**

Sequence Four: I Know Tears, Part One

        "Sessha would prefer if you left it."

        Slowly returning the dermal regenerator to her operating tray, Beverly gave Lieutenant Akimatsu one long, carefully neutral look. As much as she wanted to somehow comfort him, help him, or just remove even a portion of the pain she could see so clearly under his expression, she could not. Shinta was confined to the _Enterprise_, as per Starfleet and Federation orders, until the entire tragedy of T'Ume and Ensign Kuronobu's deaths could be processed. Because of this, there was to be only minimal contact with the rest of the crew and little interaction between them, in case there was any kind of mental illness of Shinta's that might have had something to do with the incident; a change in the circumstances would render any conclusions towards that end invalid.

        This was not the first time Beverly had disagreed with her orders, but it was certainly one of the most harrowing. Just looking at him, she felt her heart wrench; three days after the murders and his expression was still closed down. The same far-off look, the same tiny, broken smile, the same shadows that spoke of something torn and devastated deep inside. And now…

        "But it will leave a scar," Beverly pointed out, though he, of course, must have known that, with all his medical training and common sense. He wasn't denying it, but, in a way, _she_ wanted to; for perhaps the hundredth time, she thought again of the old sepia picture she had seen. At that time, it had been the subject only of speculation, but theories were something of a moot point now. The parallels of all that she had seen and learned still continued to cause shivers to run up her spine and a helpless despair to gather in her heart. "Are you sure you want that?"

        "…hai," came the low, muted answer. 

More than likely, it was the lack of sincere emotion that was hurting her the most; Shinta had always been a bright young…well, not particularly young, but still, a cheerful man worth being around. Optimistic, energetic, even endearing in a way and it seemed as though he was now keeping a veneer of at least a basic, everyday politeness, but it didn't fool a woman of Beverly's experience. She knew a façade when she saw one, and the extent of Shinta's went even beyond those terrible events.

He had changed, in a way so severe and irreparable that she feared she might never see the man she knew ever again. Still, she continued with her duty, Shinta laying supine on a biobed while the greatest of his injuries mended. Even with the most up-to-date technology, he wouldn't be moved to the heavily guarded brig until tomorrow morning; the sword wound had been substantial, to the point where Beverly had been surprised that he had still been conscious when they had found him. The blood loss, compounded with the depravation from the myriad of other lacerations and trauma from added external damage, should have at least caused him to pass out. Yet he had been fully awake and completely aware as they had come up the rise of that hill, having been forced to search the entire park due to the hazy, unreliable signal his damaged communicator had provided.

But, thinking of the condition in which they had found him and the…the bodies…Beverly could understand and sympathize, little good that these things did. The postmortem examination had revealed that Kuronobu's sword attack had cut through the surface of T'Ume's heart as it had passed through her side. Kuronobu himself had almost been sliced completely in two, apparently by Shinta's own hand. Shinta had himself confirmed this at his interrogation, reciting mechanically everything that had happened; from his and T'Ume's sojourn in the park, Kuronobu's arrival in the clearing, the ensuing battle, and the deaths that followed.

Troi, who had been present along with the investigators, Captain Picard, Commander Riker, and herself, later told Beverly that everything Shinta had said had been true, down to the last painful, heartbreaking detail.

"If that is what you want, Lieutenant," Beverly said at last and searched around the nearby alcove for an adhesive bandage. Occasionally, dermal regenerators were not available, most often on planetside assignments involving danger, so they had less advanced yet still practical methods for healing. The bandage was treated so that it combated infection, but with cuts that large, there was no way he could be spared a large, distinctive, cross-shaped scar, centered on his left cheek.

A scar that he seemed to believe with all his heart that he deserved.

"Arigatou, Beverly-dono," Shinta replied in a monotone voice, staring up at the ceiling, in exactly the same manner as he had all the other times she had come in to see him.

With something of a sinking heart, Beverly realized she as afraid for him, deeply afraid, and for more reasons than one. Yes, the pain was terrible; anyone could see that, but…who could understand?

Who could help him, Shinta?

…who could help Kenshin?

******

"How is he?" Captain Picard asked some time later, his command staff once more gathered in the briefing room. With the threat to the _Enterprise _past, they had a report to produce for Starfleet, but he had to admit that he was more than willing to put aside procedure for something he considered far more important.

        Not only trying to care for his injured Lieutenant, but protect his career and his future as well. From his own hollow, mumbled rendition of the night, it was clear that he had killed Ensign Kuronobu after he had already been disabled. And, even though Kuronobu had murdered T'Ume, he was supposed to have been dealt with by Federation law. That he had been slaughtered outside of self defense did not bode well for Picard's gentle crewmember.

        "He's recuperating now in Sickbay," Beverly answered in a subdued voice. She looked tired, more pale than usual with discernable hollows under her eyes. Though it was fairly easy to tend to the sword wounds, mental and emotional healing could only be hoped for at this point. "He will be fully recovered by tomorrow, but Captain…"

        Somewhat surprised that she trailed off, Picard looked to his other officers, his gaze questioning. "Is there more, Doctor?"

        It was Troi who answered, knowing how hard this was for her friend. While they had all had to deal with difficult, emotionally trying situations, this was somehow worse in a different way. And it was…unfair. "When I spoke to him the day after his interrogation, he became slightly upset when I called him Shinta."

        Surprised and more than a little concerned, Picard nodded for her to continue. "Did he give a reason?"

        Troi shook her head sadly, her hands clasped tightly together on the gleaming surface of the conference table. "No, but he didn't give me another name to use."

        It looked as though she wished to say more and, when she didn't, they all could guess what it was. In the end, it was the newly appointed Commander M'Rath who spoke, having been briefed by the Klingon next to him over the speculations concerning Shinta's past. "You sensed his desire to be called by his past name."

        The counselor nodded, not showing any sign of discomfort regarding M'Rath's frankness, though she was distantly curious at how he could accept the notion of a past life so readily. "There is more of Kenshin now than Shinta, at least as far as I can perceive without delving deeper."

        "Then he really did remember a past life," Riker murmured, the skeptic fading from his expression. "But what kind of implications will this have? He could be dangerous."

        "Maybe, maybe not," Picard replied, deep in thought with his mouth set into a hard line. "We can't be certain just which side of this Kenshin Himura we are dealing with. The manslayer? The wanderer? The healer?"

        "I think it might be all three," Beverly said quietly as she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes with a hand. "If everything we've supposed is true, he just regained an entire lifetime, from birth to death. It's his choice now which part of himself he's going to apply to today."

        "So which one is he, really?" Geordi asked, concern etched on his dark features. Though the Chief Engineer had never met the Lieutenant, he had heard T'Ume speak highly of him several times. And, if she had given her life for him… "Shinta or Kenshin?"

        "For the moment, we'll assume he is Kenshin and treat him as such," Picard surmised, not looking very happy about it but knowing it had to be done. He was deeply concerned for Kenshin, curiously more than he could be for an average crewman; there was just something about the Lieutenant that made a person wish to help him, no matter how he resisted the notion. However, the safety of the ship, the crew, and the rest of the Federation came first. So, as much as he did not wish it, he still had to consider Kenshin something of a threat. "If that is how he now sees himself, far be it from us to contradict him. We have to remember that none of us here can possibly understand just what it is that he is experiencing. We will have to be very careful when speaking with him and in trying to explain this tragedy."

        Troi bit her lip, looking pained. "A message has already been sent to T'Ume's brother on Vulcan. Satol is her only living relative, but he is on pilgrimage and will be for the next several months; he can't be contacted, so close friends will be handling the funeral preparations. As for any other rituals beyond the basic requirements, no one is authorized to oversee them other than Satol, so they will be postponed until his return."

        "That gives us time, then," Riker commented, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe we can somehow salvage his career. The Federation can't deny that all of this happened under circumstances very different from normal."

        "His career, maybe, but beyond that…," Troi murmured sadly, dark eyes filled with sympathy. "I know this sounds terribly cliché, but his heart is broken. Even just examining the surface of his mind, this whole tragedy has nearly destroyed him and I'm not entirely certain he will be able to maintain the same lifestyle as he had before."

        "He has more strength than that."

        Surprised by the sternness in that purring voice, the assorted officers turned to M'Rath, various questions in their gazes. The Captain was the one to speak first. "Is this a professional assessment, Commander?"

        There was a pause and, sounding just as stern, it was Worf who broke the silence. "Yes, it is, sir. Even in the few times I observed him in battle, I could see the potential he had as a warrior. If nothing else, that will sustain him."

        "And I have found evidence that there might have been more behind Ensign Kuronobu's actions," Data suddenly spoke up, having been silent for most of the briefing. Once he had their attention, he continued. "From the way he was reported to fight, his style was Japanese, just as Himura's was. It is entirely possible that what the Lieutenant stated about their battle was true."

        "Now that you mention it…," Troi started, gazing off into the distance as she recalled what she had felt in Shinta…Kenshin's mind. "He knew something about Kuronobu that we didn't. I didn't look too deeply, but I think the Ensign had said he had known Kenshin in a past life."

        "That certainly adds another layer to this investigation," Picard said resignedly, not certain if this was for the better. Still, if there was some way to find rationalization beyond just the murder of two crewmembers… "Is it possible that T'Ume could have been in the same situation?"

        "I could try questioning her acquaintances and the other crewmen who worked on her shift ," Geordi spoke up, wanting very much to help. He himself had considered T'Ume a friend and to somehow explain why she gave her life for Kenshin was something he greatly desired to do. He didn't blame the Lieutenant, not at all, but others might.

        "I will keep investigating Mr. Himura's background to determine whether or not there might be others from that time period," Data said at once.

        "I will aid you," M'Rath spoke up once again, the calm decision in his voice absolute. Understandably, Worf nodded in agreement.

        "Beverly and I will do what we can to help him before the Federation officially takes charge of his fate," Troi added, having already shared the understanding glance with her friend.

        "Well, I'll see what I can do in stalling them," Captain Picard said with a smile, more than grateful to have his ever reliable, unshakable officers. And M'Rath was already proving himself a worthy and capable addition. "We won't lose Mr. Himura without a fight." 

******

        Due to his sometimes useful tendency to look completely unapproachable, Commander M'Rath made his way to his quarters in relative peace, even members of the department now under his jurisdiction avoiding him once they saw the look in his eyes. While a feline face was naturally fierce, his was particularly so, the slitted pupils of his emerald gaze adding to this effect. Even clad in an immaculate uniform, the cuff stripes and visible collar the gold of the Security department, there remained an air of feral power about him, his long, straight black hair tied neatly at his neck and the intelligence in his expression detracting nothing from this effect.

        But there was an added element to his appearance as he walked down the somewhat empty corridors of Deck 2. This would be the second time he had entered his new quarters, having been appointed to his position so suddenly. So, his quarters had been moved to those of the senior staffs' on the deck nearest the Bridge. And, if certain events had not taken place, he would have already been discussing the formation of the new Tactical Medicine Division with Dr. Crusher and…

        "_For the moment, we'll assume he is Kenshin and treat him as such…"_

        It was the Lieutenant that occupied his thoughts now, causing those shadows to flicker in the depths of his gaze and frighten less intrepid crewmembers away. And it was more than just concern for a fellow officer; there was something more troubling him, to the extent where he would have to honestly admit that he was unsettled. When he had seen Akimat—Himura in Sickbay…the look in his eyes, the expression on his face…

        …he had never before witnessed such despair and pain, however cleverly hidden behind that tired, _broken _smile.

        And still more than that ate at him, caused an anxiety that was so unfamiliar, compounded by his inability to point out the second source he just **knew **existed.

        Entering his dimly lit quarters, M'Rath attempted to relax, though the attempt was fairly futile. Not being of the type to sigh, he simply went to his desk, murmuring a command for a cup of tea as he brushed past the replicator. While his shift was over, there was no way that M'Rath could rest peacefully, not after all he had learned. Because he had not been present at the first briefing concerning Himura, he had been told of the human's expected origins only a short while ago. With his interest in Earth history, particularly that of Japan's, M'Rath _had _at least read of some of the rumors and speculations concerning the alleged Battousai, but the figure had never meant very much to him before.

        Now…the situation had changed, though more drastically than his superiors knew. The knowledge of the Legendary Manslayer had triggered something deep inside M'Rath's heart, a whisper of olden days that he hadn't known existed. Having always been totally certain of himself, uncertain truths were not characteristics he wanted to have distracting him from his duties. But he couldn't dismiss them, not after…

        …not after what he had _remembered_. Though of only a miniscule nature, M'Rath had **known **something as they had come upon Kenshin in that park, bent over the body of T'Ume. Something that had always existed somewhere within him, silent and waiting. He wasn't certain just how this memory could have been created, or why he had not been able to access it before all of this. He wasn't even certain if it was real or not, though he had absolute confidence in his own sanity and rationality.

        Still, there was no doubting what was flickering across his eyes, or what he was hearing whisper though his mind…

        _"So, we finally meet again, Himura the Battousai."_

        _A library, old and worn, books of ancient design torn and strewn across the floor._

_        "What happened? You've changed…"_

_        An air that was musty and thick, choking him, suffocating him, his vision blurred, his hands so cold… _

_        "For that alone I have lived by throwing everything away."_

_        Weights heavy in his hands, gleaming blades visible in the darkness._

_        "You will have your wish. I will use all of my strength to defeat you. However…"_

_        A terrible, endless emptiness in his heart, pain unlike any he had ever known destroying his sanity and his spirit and his hope._

_        "…you will have to fight me as I am now. You'll fight Kenshin Himura!"_

M'Rath realized suddenly that he was trembling, the short fur on his neck and back standing on end. Surprised widened his emerald pupils, uncustomary shock coursing through him in a silent, heavily-felt wave. And it grew, so quietly that he almost wasn't aware of what was happening or _why_. Yet it continued, his whole body shaking with what was returning to his heart, rising again from a hidden place deep within his soul.

        _"The man I made that promise to wasn't you…"_

Like the dawn breaking on a silent forest, M'Rath **knew**, feltwith all that he was the person who had whispered to his heart for all his years. He remembered why it was that he had requested Akimatsu for his staff, why he had taken up the human's defense, why it was that he saw violet eyes watching him with familiarity and disappointment, respect and hope.

        All at once, it grew great, no longer quiet or subtle. For a single moment, everything was within, liberated and wild, raging and turning and flowing free through all that he was, all that he would be, and all that he had ever been.

        _"…it was to Aoshi Shinomori!"_

 And then, like that, it was done and slightly dazed, hazy emerald eyes scanned again his quarters, seeing anew what he had constructed himself. The austere bed, the ancient weapons adorning one wall, the various jungle plants placed in corners, to remind him of his home.

        But Cait wasn't his only home anymore. There was another, from so long ago…

******

        Let's have a show of hands people: how many of you saw this coming? Hmm, I thought so; I know at least some of you figured out who M'Rath was, but I bet you weren't suspecting him to remember so soon, eh? Especially after all it took to get Kenshin to remember…

        But there _is _a very important reason as to why this is so, as will be revealed within this sequence. So you'll stay tuned, ne? I'm sorry there wasn't any of Kenshin this chapter, but it will be mainly him next time and his introspective trials. Sounds fun, yes?

        And, in case you want to know, I'll be finished with this fic once almost all of the _Rurouni Kenshin _characters are revealed in the future, which, by the look of things, is going to be many chapters from now. You see, I have this nasty tendency to write really long fanfictions (even though it KILLS ME!), so I guess that's lucky for you, huh?

        Oh yes and below is what I am calling a Mini-Insert. What does it entail? Well, it's a small (_really _small) piece of story that I couldn't fit in any other part of the fic. Why? Well, the events in this insert connect to the events of last chapter, but I could not, for the life of me, put them in after the ending that I had. I just couldn't and I still can't (or won't, perhaps); and adding them to the above chapter detracts from the purpose of this sequence. So, rather, read this and be prepared for a sequence yet to come!!

        Mind you, though, that all _Star Trek _information for this insert and the future chapters concerning it, were from Diana Duane's books, the main one being _My Enemy, My Ally_. Forgive me, Ms Duane, but your writing is so wonderful and your details so numerous, I just can't stop myself from writing a fanfiction. So yes, he is related to Ael (however distantly), because I loved her so very much (err, I _think _I'm supposed add a 'tr' to the family name…or not? Damn, need to find out…). Um, forgive me for inaccuracies, 'kay? Gotta take a little writer's license here (you know, for terms and what words to use for the passage of time)…sorry!

        (*hides*)

******

Mini-Insert: Sister

        _Eisn, named for a star…the Elements would hold sway over all of me, always and forever; with such a name, there was no denying it…_

_        Fire always in my heart, a sword in my hand to pierce the air…_

_        Burning always, never failing, eternally stepping forward even as all was seared away…misjudged, suspected, dangerous…_

_        Eisn, named for a center, named for flame…_

_        But…the snow…_

_        I am not the center, I have no fire…_

_        "Nee-san…nee-san…"_

_        Sister…sister…where have you gone?_

_        Sister, it hurts…the fire…the stars…_

_        Amber and burning, killing…_

_        …killing you…_

_        Sister…_

"Ante-Centurion tr'Rllaillieu!! How DARE you fall asleep on the bridge?!!!"

        Eisn i-Khoal tr'Rllaillieu jerked straight up from his painfully austere bunk, twisted his legs in the thin blanket, and promptly fell out onto the deck. A good ten seconds later, he came to his senses, recognizing the raucous laughter of his best friend and fellow crewman onboard the _Thrai_, S'Talon. Judging by S'Talon's state of dress, they had perhaps at least a half an hour before they both began their shift on the bridge. Normally, Eisn would awaken long before his friend, he usually being the one who delivered the rude alarm of some form or another.

        Truthfully, they did not often maintain the dignity proper for a Rihannsu—for a Romulan, to use the Federation term. Well, they _did_ maintain it during their duties, during daily affairs, during all times when they were not alone. But here, at least, not having shown themselves to be troublemakers, they were not watched. Eisn was a prime candidate for such suspicion, even now, over a century having passed since that incident involving that reckless, greatly disgraced, and thankfully distant aunt of his.

        Although, sometimes, he was proud of her, in a way. The history books had wiped away all but the most degrading of condemnations to her name, but still…he was proud. And uncertain why; she reminded him of someone…someone he could not recall…

        _Sister…_

        "Eisn?" S'Talon questioned, concern etched on his face, which was certainly something to look at. S'Talon, though bearing the usual fierce features of a Romulan—the pronounced forehead, the up-swept brows, the pointed ears—his expression was still somehow lazy enough to cause people to underestimate him, a deadly mistake indeed. Eisn was a little the same, with features that people often made a point of commenting on, saying he looked more a Vulcan than a proper Romulan.

        Few of such people ever spoke to him again.

        However, his thoughts were far from insults to his pride, focusing instead on a curious pain that was both physical and mental, actually _there_ inside him in a way he could not understand. It…it **hurt**. It ached…something was tearing and breaking. This pain…he couldn't explain it; where had it come from? Why now? Nothing at all had happened to him recently, he was well-established in life, he was not tangled in politics or even military crises, the _Thrai _now in her third month stationed in the middle of Element-forsaken space, so why…?

        _Sister…sister…_

_        "Why won't you stop crying…?"_

_        It hurts, sister…_

_        "Speak to me, sister!!"_

                _It's burning…help me, sister…_

"Eisn!!" S'Talon yelled, deeply concerned now. He had never seen such a look of…of confusion and _anguish _on Eisn's face before. It was a terrible thing to see, especially on one as capable as Eisn. He even feared for his friend a little; could he be losing his mind?

        Coming to a decision, S'Talon went directly to his friend's side, quickly removing the sheet that had still been draped over his head. Fully intending to give his friend a long, stern bout of advice and concern, S'Talon was forced to stop with his mouth hanging wide open. His eyes were wide as well, and getting wider.

        Even through the pain that was beginning to consume him, Eisn saw this and could not help the question he asked.

        "W-what is it?"

        "Your…your hair…"

        Confused, his chest starting to feel as though someone had driven a dagger through it, Eisn stumbled to his feet, staggering to the small, practical mirror hanging from one wall. Reaching it, all he could do was stare blankly for what felt like an eternity, one hand fisted over his heart as agony ground through him, the source still unknown.

        _Sister…_

        His hair, loose and sweeping forward in elegant spikes to partially obscure his dark eyes, was white…white as snow, when it had formerly been inky black.

        _…sister, the stars…_

S'Talon, shocked and unsure of what to think, almost didn't catch Eisn's hollow whisper, so soft as to be non-existent. Still, he just managed to hear the single word, his friend's voice broken and hurting and _angry_.

        "…Tomoe…"

        _…the amber stars, killing you…_


	13. I Know Tears, Part 2

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan******

Sequence Four: I Know Tears, Part Two

        It…hadn't stopped hurting yet. And, truthfully, Kenshin was certain it never would, continuing into forever like some terrible, condemning death toll. From darkest recesses of his soul rose the deep, endless festering of denial and regret, the wound that pulsed with every beat of his heart, in time with the blood he knew was trailing from his cross-shaped scar. Oh, his medically-trained mind knew that the cuts were healing, that, given the medical advancements that had occurred over the last several centuries, they would be fully formed into those distinct marks only a few days from now. But the sensation was there, if only imagined. Sitting alone in the brig, he had plenty of time to contemplate this and let the agony travel in slow waves throughout all his being.

Twice. _Twice_. Two times he had been given a chance, a glimmer of happiness, and…what had he done? Twice, he had made such terrible mistakes and she…she had paid the price. Twice, when she might have lived, possibly happily, even without him. Twice, each with an anguish unequaled, felt in silent onslaughts that raged in storms of ebon blood and the scent of beautiful, terrible blossoms. But, at least, back then…

Despairing, Kenshin gazed around at his cell, his restored perception at odds with all that he saw. Yes, he was still Shinta Akimatsu; the memories of the life he had led up to his point were crystal clear, waiting for him to recall them, but they felt like the recollections of someone else. A person far disjointed from him, with a smile that he thought he had once had, but now realized he had never even had the _right _to. Now, torn from what he had known, everything, this world, this time, this place…he did not belong here. Even as his eyes settled on the flickering forcefield between him and a just as desolate freedom, it took him at least a minute to remember what the barrier actually was and that, indeed, he could not pass it.

        _There is no place for me…_

        Unable to contain it, Kenshin hunched where he sat, overwhelmed by it all. At least, back then…the world had been his own, rather than a place he could not understand and, in turn, could not understand him. He had lived an entire lifetime…those memories were clear and true, ready for him to reclaim them, to know them again and be comforted. But no…_no_. What he had done…there was no excuse, no turning away from the cold, hard truth that dug through his gut like the avenging blade of a katana.

        _…nothing, no one…all because…_

        His own fear. His own fear and weakness; he hadn't accepted the pain he had gained all those years ago. The happiness. The sorrow. The joy and renewal. The loss and regret. The endless recollections of victory and defeat, of days when the sun shone and when it hid behind a veil of faded gray. The smiles of those he knew, the condemnations of those he did not, the whispers that followed him, all to be felt and dismissed and remembered, always.

        Except he had not remembered, had fought this truth with a child's ignorance and a man's hollowed heart. Fought it, and lost. Lost, defeated, conquered by the battle itself. By refusing, he made it real again, made those hazy, precious treasures valued and undeserved.

        Those friends that he cherished, so much more than anything…

        _How could I? How could I have…both of them…_

        His loathing, misguided and accurately thrown, pledging to take Kenshin's life…

…his laugh, honest apology and a deeper relief than he knew, asking aid in finding that ever-absent luck.

        _I…I couldn't stop them…I couldn't even guess…_

        Her pain and despair, so near his own that he felt a kinship henceforth unknown, willing her life in the place of those she had helped ruin..

…her flirting smile, hiding so much that he could so easily perceive, caring for him in her own way.

_I was so blind…a fool…why didn't I fight? Why didn't I…why couldn't I remember? Why…_

        His defiant eyes, more piercing in their innocence than he could ever realize, raging against him even as Kenshin set his life upon the proper path… 

…his willing smile, a child's hint of things to come, practice sword firm in his grip while his indomitable strength grew.

_…there's no excuse…_

Then, both of them, smiling at him…dark eyes and dark hair, a dichotomy of inverted twins, two sides of a coin that he held against his vulnerable heart… 

The scent of white plums…the timeless dance of a sakura petal upon the wind…

_…no forgiveness…___

Abruptly, Kenshin was on his feet, a fist pounding into the wall next to him with such strength that the shock and pain traveled up his arm, jarring him away from the images he knew so well. But it was nothing, _nothing _compared to what was raging inside, so many things undone that he could hardly comprehend just how much more he had lost, that he had _defiled_. A sinner he had shaped himself to be, in the cruelest, highest definition of the word. That which he held sacred, most lauded and dearest of all, he had destroyed, the act engraved onto his body and his heart in a judgement seen by so many accusing facets of himself. After all that he had gone through, the trials and heartbreak, the battles and turmoil, the times of doubting himself and the single, brilliant moment when he had found the answer he had been searching for, at last finding some semblance of true light at the end of the death-strewn tunnel…

Kenshin knew he had thrown it all away, all because he had been _afraid_. He had profaned everything he had used to live for, simply because he could not accept his pain. He had hidden behind this new life, free of criminal paroxysm, free of rain-washed blame and summer-warmed bliss. It had seemed ideal, a world without conflicts, where he would not have to put his life on the line; or, if he did, it would not have to be alone, trapped in a circumstance too familiar for his disgustingly complacent disposition. A world where peace spread gentle arms over his home, his Earth, so that he did not have to remain upon the old soil to protect and, in that cowardly disdained possibility, remember.

A world at peace did not require him to recall what that peace had cost. And, in all his selfish heart, he had reveled in that fact, hiding from himself and what he should have always known.

If he hadn't done that, had not let himself twist away from the purest truth he had gained through the pain he feared…none of this would have happened. He would not have had to…he would not have been _driven…**tempted **_to commit the crime that he had.

He could still see Jiro, smiling at him alongside her—_thanking him_. He could still feel the weight of the sword in his hand, even taste the blood that had colored the air. Without so much as a tentative search, he knew again the rage of the manslayer within, the hitokiri's nature so close to the surface now that it pushed against his perception like an insistent beast, knowing the bars of the cage no longer held the same strength.

Indeed, the lock had been lost already, fallen away on that crest of time and its inevitable passage. So, the beast neared, inch by mental inch, stalking upon the weakened sentimentality that, bared before tainted circumstance, seemed all but useless.

If Kenshin had been able to see the color of his eyes, he would have known how truly close he was. And, in truth, if he had…he would not have cared. He had murdered her a _second time_…her life stolen by his hands just as surely as if he had held the sword himself. She was dead, any newfound happiness ripped away, the same peaceful life he had wallowed in taken when she so rightfully deserved it. And it had been a conscious choice of his, refusing the memories and skills and strengths that could have saved her.

_I…I do not…deserve…_

What right, then, did he have to retain either of his lives, old or new? In either one, it _was _possible to be happy, to find a weary peace as the sorrow dissolved, replaced by joy through so many simple things. He knew this was so, had learned it with years long ago. He _knew _and yet…

_…I do not deserve it…I…_

For a long time, Kenshin remained as he was, one fist upon the wall, slightly leaning his weight into it. His crimson hair glimmered in the artificial light, taking on a metallic sheen that had never appeared in the light of the sun. Indeed, the new fluorescence changed the color of his form ever-so-slightly, to where it would have been noticeable; at least, by those who had known him in those years now settled in antiquity. His skin, pale still, leaned towards the faintest lunar gold, invisible unless one searched; because of it, the scarlet strands hid a glimmer of the precious hue as well, flashing only as he shifted and for a second less than half. Even his movements grew barely perceived afterimages, echoes on the retina that—partially, at least—could be attributed to a trick of the lights, rather than a hidden, inherent grace born of killing skills unrecognized. Particularly sensitive crewmembers had experienced such a phenomenon before, choosing to ignore it or assume Kenshin was, in fact, another lifeform. Luckily for these nervous few, his eyes, violet and happy, were not altered in any way by the advanced world. Centuries had had no effect on them, no altered state in the soft, content depths that could sharpen with drive and precision and emotion deep and true, yet at all times remain tinged with the distant sorrows of the world, the little things he could not change and a hint of a perception no one, not even himself, could understand. For a certainty, there was no way his eyes _could _be changed.

Save one.

Was it really so wrong to discard all else in favor of this? Would it be, when he had proven himself so unworthy of learning to be happy once more, or returning to the life he had built here?

Was it selfish?

No, it was _needed_. Needed, because he had needed it before. Needed, because he could not accept happiness. Needed, in the place of a void that he feared; continued to fear, even after everything. In a void, anything can find you.

If you hide, hide well, in a place you knew was safe, nothing can.

If you hide, no one can see you weep.

If you hide, you can accept the truth you proclaim and remain unstained by the truth others present, those being possibly truer still.

If you hide, no one can be drawn in to be destroyed by your kindness.

If you hide, your heart cannot endanger anyone else…if you hide, you don't have to ask for forgiveness and be rightfully denied…

He deserved to hide. It was his right, his punishment; he deserved to know the pain alone, because he had knowingly chosen so, the moment he had let the katana fall and forced Tomoe to fight for him when he failed so miserably to do so. If she hadn't had to take his place, if she hadn't been the one to face _his _past, what was _his _duty to meet, then she…she would still be here, smiling at him in the that Vulcan way…in **her **way.

Kenshin _wanted _to hide, shy away from Jiro's…from Jin'e's grateful smile, his parting words of thanks. He did not want to understand what it was the man had wanted, what had driven him to seek death and with a relieved, comforted smile that so changed that maddened countenance.

How very much he wanted to hide, somewhere far away, in darkness, in endlessness, the stars glinting their amber fire…

A cold calmness washed over the agonizing throe of his soul, sinking it into the deep, uncharted sea that hid so many regrets, and Kenshin slowly took his seat again, crimson strands hiding his eyes from view. Something warm and slick trailed down his face from beneath the bandage adorning his left cheek, dripping onto his trembling hands. He didn't need to open his eyes to know the drops glimmered red.

The ache was so distant now…

…had it ever existed at all?

****** 

Aoshi Shinomori looked down at his hand, uncustomary surprise flitting through him once more at the slender, strong, black-furred palm, and the dark, deadly claws that tipped his long fingers. But he should not have been surprised; that hand had been his own for all his life. What caused these reactions was simply remembering that that hadn't always been so. Just as starships had not always traversed solar systems, nor had species such as himself been known to humans.

        He still _was _the Caitian, M'Rath, but he was Aoshi as well and, with his old memories paramount, it was as though he was the man, aware again of who he was after a long, long amnesia. Living another life, in another time, but still the same, however much unaware of it.

        Much to his (mild) astonishment, there was no conflict between himself and _himself_. Yes…the last coherent memory he had of the world he knew was laying his tired, wonderfully achy bones onto the futon, amazed anew at his granddaughter's energy and how, unfathomably, she could _still_ come up behind him without him knowing. But then, he **had **been getting rather old.

        He must have died in his sleep.

        And the last coherent memory he had of _this _world, still separate from his reawakening retrospection, was receiving his promotion from the Captain. His solemn nod of thanks, his few words that so personified him, the fastening of the commander's pips to his collar. Beyond that were the early days of his career, his days at the Earth branch of Starfleet Academy, the hazy pictures of his childhood.

        And they mixed, with such ease and simplicity that Aoshi felt as though his lives had always been one and the same. True, he had begun his training with a kodachi as soon as his arms had the strength to do so, just as he had begun climbing trees as soon as his claws gained the sharpness required. He had sparred with Hannya in the evenings, forever honing his skills, just as he had spent many an afternoon enduring his raucous brothers, honing his ability to ignore. He had taken his place as the head of the Oniwabannshu at the age of fifteen, just as he had passed the Academy entrance exams during that turbulent year with the highest scores in nearly a decade.

        Although, from that point on, the two were rather diversified; that did not stop the merging, however, and, after a few moments of just standing in the middle of his quarters, Aoshi found that he was rather well at ease.

        Could it really be this simple?

        Curious and calculating, the onmitsu took stock of his body, noting with some satisfaction the slender, muscular form, so close to his original build. Well, the fur was something new, but it hardly mattered. His hearing was considerably improved, as was his sense of smell, his eyes unhindered by the lack of light. He could even feel the vibrations in the air with the almost invisible whiskers on his face and he suspected that the tail extending from the base of his spine would aid his balance most efficiently. Plus, claws could certainly compliment a sword. Or a phaser, he supposed, but Aoshi's older mindset had an instant aversion towards firearms of any kind.

        A familiar scent teasing his nose, Aoshi turned emerald eyes to the replicator, feeling surprise for a moment at the sight of the steaming cup. But it passed, his newer memories reminding him just what the device was. The older side of his mind faintly curious, he stepped gracefully over—the exceptional fluidity of movement, indeed, cat-like, boded well for certain techniques he could now remember how to use—and he took the beverage into his hand, savoring the richer, fuller smell before taking a tentative sip.

        Hmm…Oolong. Not bad, but it had a hint of something he could not place. He recalled a few of his staff complaining that replicated foodstuffs didn't taste the same as the actual product. Perhaps they were right. He turned and began walking across his quarters to his desk, intending to begin sifting through the _Enterprise's _database. Aoshi could remember taking courses in all facets of Federation knowledge at the Academy, but he felt the need to reacquaint himself; only one part of his mind had learned it, after all.

        But his eyes fell upon a small item placed on the inner corner of his desk, glowing faintly. A hologram, depicting his…family. A shiver of recognition flowing through his old recollections, he lifted the thin discus into his palm, staring at the three-dimensional image that shown above it.

        _My family…_

        "I do not…believe it…," Aoshi murmured, so inwardly shocked that it actually warranted spoken words. He ignored the smooth, purring quality that his voice how carried, filing away the mild bemusement where no one would find it. But, at the moment, he cared no more for his new state, only his new circumstances. "They…they are…"

        Quite suddenly, it felt as though his legs were going to go out from under him and he braced himself on the chair. While his two lifetimes had merged, he had still needed to _see _the evidence of this and realize with his old self just what it was that he saw. His parents, his cousins, his grandfather, his littermates…

        …his brothers.

        It was actually a bit much for Aoshi to take in, the former ninja slowly setting the holo-emitter back onto his deck with delicate, almost reverent precision. While it _was _possible to assume it was all coincidence, Aoshi was far too intelligent to think it was actually so. Just judging by what had happened to him, they _had _to be…and his example wasn't the only one to go by. After all, Himura…

        _…**Himura**._

Aoshi's feline head snapped up, a low, feral growl escaping him as he realized that he _was not _supposed to be just standing here. His reemerging memories had distracted him, as had the hologram, but that was no excuse!! Instantly, his thoughts replayed all the events of the last two days, Aoshi's older mindset absorbing the facts with reserved detachment, refusing to allow any emotion to form until he knew what he had to do. While it had been almost ridiculously simple for him to regain what he had forgotten, it was obviously not so with Himura. The trauma endured while the former manslayer's heart fought its way to the surface did not bode well for his peace of mind; indeed, Aoshi was actually uncertain whether or not he would find a whole man when he entered the brig.

        However…there was no way he was not going to offer his aid…nay, _force _it. Aoshi knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Himura needed help; he had seen the look on the human's face, remembered it, and now, knowing what he did, he was absolutely certain of what that expression meant. Because…

        …because he had seen it before, on his own face, those lifetimes ago.

        _Himura__, if you…_

        A plan formulated, Aoshi stepped quickly to a low trunk at the foot of his bed, flipping open the streamlined lid and revealing the project he had been working on since he had been given word of his pending promotion and the Tactical Medicine program. At the time, he hadn't known where he had gained the inspiration for this particular shape and style, but, remembering now, the choice made prefect sense.

_…if you even **dare**…_

        Lifting three objects from his trunk, two fairly short, one long, Aoshi turned towards the door, eyes blazing emerald fire.

        _…you will have_ **me **_to face._

******

        Ahem…I bet we all know what's coming next chapter, ne? If you think it will be a parallel to the library fight scene, then you're right on the money. But things will be different, obviously, and wishes inverted, to lean toward the poetic. This sequence is going to be four chapters (rather than three, which I've had the last couple of times); with the battle and the aftermath (or the decision, rather) yet to come. Luckily for me, I now own the _Rurouni__ Kenshin Season 2 _DVD box set, so I've got all the episodes I need (as a matter of fact, all I need are three volumes of the third season and I'll have the entire season on DVD…life is good. ^_^). Sorry this one was so short, though, but it was required! The next one will be longer, I promise.

        Anyway, I'm glad everyone liked Eisn's chapter, although his main story won't come for a while (_long _while, mind you), but I might have other Mini-Inserts later on to hint at his 'progress' concerning…well, I think I'll keep that a secret. ^_~

        Also, I'm considering writing a full-sized Insert (something that is one chapter only, rather than a Sequence of multiple ones) concerning Jin'e. Seeing as I'm one of the few Jin'e fangirls on the planet, I consider it my duty. Plus, we all want to know what was really his deal, right? I think I might write that after I complete this sequence.

        Oh yes, and I'm taking a poll: how do you think a certain Wolf of Mibu's name should be spelled? I've got three variations here (Saito, Saitou, and Saitoh), but I haven't the foggiest clue which one to choose. The variations seem pretty widespread around the fanfiction world, so I thought 'why not just ask?'. So, I'm asking: which one do ya want?

        Anyway, I guess that's all for now, so be prepared for next time, when things get rather hectic. ^_^

        Ja ne!

P.S. And I just figured out a FABULOUS way of doing the Kenji chapters, once I get around to them. I am **very **proud of myself, so that's something else to look forward to, ne? (*oh, my ego, how it chokes me…*) ^_~

P.P.S. Oh yes, and in case you want to know, I finally got the year this is all happening: 2372.

P.P.P.S. (Last PP, I swear. _) I got _The Last Samurai _on DVD!! ALL IS RIGHT IN THE WORLD!!!! Plus, I smell a crossover… 


	14. Insert: Murderer

**A Glint of Amber Stars**

**By**

**Rem-chan**

Insert: Murderer

Or, At the Edge of Shadow

Because I was the only one that loved him, I was the one to receive my brother's remains. My parents had long since ceased to care about him, more than glad when he had left for the Academy and not returned. I could still remember their relief, as well as their surprise, when he had graduated and been assigned to a starship. I could also recall their quiet loathing and envy when they heard that he had been given a tour of duty on the famous _Enterprise_. Their words had reached me as I went about my business about the house, invisible to them as I dealt with the duty of finishing a term at the neighboring university.

_"That freakish child received such an honor? I can't believe it…"_

_"It must have been a fluke. Surely anyone who looks at him can tell he's not meant for that."_

_"He'll be caught doing something soon enough, just you watch. There isn't an decent bone in his body."_

_"I'm already waiting for the notification of a court martial or arrest."_

_"If we're luckily, he'll die before then and give us something to at least say we're proud of."_

I had resented them enough before for how they treated Jiro, but I had realized that I had come to truly hate them after that. They had felt something far less than love for him since he was an infant, I knew. After all, it had been Jiro who had virtually sucked the life out of his fraternal twin in the womb, doing it in such away that the first, now stillborn baby hadn't even been detected by the physicians. My parents had called him a killer since that day, though never when anyone could hear.

And, even though I knew they were right, I did not hate Jiro for it the way they did. It was them that I despised, even as they doted on me while leaving Jiro to fend for himself. I felt sorry for him at first, the older brother I lived in the same house with but rarely saw. But as I grew, I learned that he did not need, or want, my pity. While the rest of us knew he was a killer, Jiro seemed perfectly aware of far more than even that. As if a way of life had been ingrained in him even before his birth.

It was when I realized the extent of his self-actualization that I began to revere him, seeking him out when he did not wish to be sought. I received blows for my devotion, but I would not be deterred, except in those times when mother and father saw the bruises and the cuts and punished Jiro for it. When that happened, I would curb my impulses, regret and guilt eating through me.

But then, he would appear the next day, strong, silent, assured, and deadly, just as he had always been. Nothing anyone did to him seemed to diminish the profound darkness inside, however harsh it seemed to me. Some time in my early teens I came to understand that Jiro had long since experienced all the horrors life had had to offer and come out of it a whole man. Perhaps he had found a kind of happiness, even, some true, higher form of fulfillment emerging from the shadows of murder I knew existed deep inside him.

That's why I loved him. He was something no one could touch, something no one could destroy. As twisted as everyone made him out to be, he was absolute. He knew what he was, down to the very crevices of his contorted soul, and did not deny any part of it, no matter what it was. He was a man who had no further to go; indeed, a dark human being without doubts. It was one thing to be a murderer; it was quite another to be a murder and proclaim it without remorse.

That was why, when I finally saw his true face, I did not turn away.

_"You're not supposed to be out this late, Keiji."_

It had been a woman that he had killed, early in the morning on what would later be a beautiful summer's day. He had used an old-style Japanese sword to slice her head cleanly from her shoulders. But, from the position of her body, I knew she hadn't been struggling. Somehow, without any discernable means, he had kept her from moving as he had killed her. When I had come across them in my search for him after another of his disappearance the night before, it had been the smell of blood that had alerted me to his location.

I hadn't questioned why I knew he would be there.

_"Jiro…why did you…?"_

He had smirked at me as I'd asked that, taking a few slow steps towards me, his shoes causing ripples through the wide pool of scarlet. I had distantly noted that some of the red was from the woman's hair, a ragged, waist-length swath of brilliant crimson spread out across the ground some feet away.

_"Do you really want to know?"_

Even though he had smiled at me with a face full of madness, I had not been afraid. Somehow, I had always known that that twisted expression had secretly existed beneath my brother's silent exterior, waiting for release. It was a lot older than I was, than our parents, than anyone I had ever known. It was a face that had known insanity for years upon years, reveling in every moment of it. A face that needed nothing else.

Except…maybe…

_"…yes."_

_"…tch. Fine, if that is what you wish, little brother. I am looking for someone. I have been looking for them a long time, and I don't intend to stop until I find them."_

I could easily tell that he had revealed that to me because he had fully intended to kill me. After all, I would certainly inform the authorities of his actions and stop his search, whatever it was. But, in this, I had finally known something that he had not.

I had faced him without fear and cast a casual gesture to the slowly cooling body.

_"You'll have to get rid of that soon, or other people will notice. A new garbage disposal-grade phaser tank was installed a few blocks down from here a couple days ago. If we hurry, we can break in before the workday starts."_

He had stared at me a few moments, weighing my words, then smirked in a way that I became very familiar with in the years that had followed.

_"…sounds good, Keiji."_

Like I said, I loved my brother, killer and all. Even though what he did was wrong by every standard on the planet, he did it and was glad that he did. He did not doubt or loathe himself, or anyone else for that matter. Hatred was not a part of his thought processes, nor was revenge or anger or guilt. He was purely himself, purely Jiro, or whatever name his old, old face belonged to. He killed because it was what he was, because it was what he had always been.

And because he had been searching for someone.

_"He owes me something. A murder was never completed, Keiji, neither mine nor his. I have everything except for that, and I won't stop looking until I have it."_

I could easily tell how hard it must have been, to be such a pure self save for one final thing, one last hurdle before a kind of nirvana was reached. I knew Jiro had been living again and again so that he could attain the true absolution his killer's soul demanded. And, while he knew the deepest fires of hell awaited him because of it, it was the only thing that he truly desired. It was what kept him purely Jiro, purely a murderer; the knowledge that, somewhere, there was someone who had also been purely a killer, even for however brief a time.

_"He changed, but I could tell. That part of him would never really die, no matter how hard he fought for it. Even though he wouldn't admit to it, I still knew he was the one. A manslayer is always a manslayer, Keiji; never forget that."_

I knew he was right. While a person could choose to change, to move on, no black mark upon the heart would ever really disappear. Jiro, knowing this, had accepted the darkness of his soul, welcomed it, cherished it, just as some people cherished their light. He had been condemned for his choice, but it had been his and his alone, what he had desired with all that he was. Others would mistake it for madness alone; I knew it to be madness and a happiness that no normal person could possibly understand.

That was why I helped him throughout all the years that he had stayed with me. I aided him in his murders, protected him when he was close to discovery, listened to him when he wished to speak of centuries past that he had lived. In return, he guided me, taught me some of what he knew, and gave me a glimpse of what it was to be a completed person.

_"You can't take up hitokiri's blade in this world, little brother, but you can know what it is to be one."_

I loved my brother. I always would. And, when the sullen medical staff had answered my earnest question, I extended this precious feeling to another.

_"Tell me…did the man that killed him have red hair?"_

_"…I'm sorry, but we can't reveal that information."_

_"Please, I'm begging you, I have to know: did he have red hair? You don't have to tell me his name, just that. **Please…**"_

_"Alright, alright…yes, he did have red hair."_

I knew then that Jiro had found the man he had been searching for. Found him, and received the last murder that he had desired for so long. To anyone but me, this would have seemed the convoluted workings of a deranged mind, but I knew better. I knew better.

_"You understand me despite being born in these polished times. It gives me hope that I'll finally get what I want."_

Because he had at last given my brother the happiness he had been seeking for so long, I loved as well that unnamed man with hair the color of blood.

* * *

…long time no see, eh? I know, but there _is _a reason. Namely, I am trying (TRYING) to finish my big (huge, monstrous) fic, _Court of Souls_. I've been putting all my time into that, though it's been moving at a snail's pace. Not only that, but I seem to be writing its final chapters backwards, which is rather annoying. 

However, during my attempts to find inspiration and clear the cobwebs from my brain, I wrote the interlude for Jin'e. While this wasn't supposed to be posted until the end of the 'I Know Tears' sequence, I figured a least a **little **more story would be nice, even if it didn't have Kenshin. The chapter with him and Aoshi is ALMOST finished, but I don't know when exactly it _will _be.

Just remember this: I DO NOT INTEND TO STOP WRITING THIS FANFICION. NOT EVER. I may be gone for months on end, but I will always come back.

Until the story picks back up again, thank you everyone, for putting up with me.


	15. I Know Tears, Part 3

A Glint of Amber Stars

By

Rem-chan

Sequence Four: I Know Tears, Part Three

Aoshi could feel him as he stood outside the door to the brig, the ill-shaped sense traveling up his spine in a cold shiver. His fur rising in response, the onmitsu resisted the urge to emit a low growl, wary of alerting the Battousai to his presence. For it was the Battousai that awaited him, not Himura. This fact disappointed Aoshi, perhaps even disgusted him; after all that fool had said, what he had _done_…to revert to this?

And he didn't even have a decent reason. Oh, he had an _excuse_, but what good was that? Besides, it was a lie just the same.

Steeling himself for what he knew was coming, Aoshi moved towards the door, careful to avoid stepping on the prone forms of the two Security personnel. It had been a slight challenge to disable them without making a sound, but silence was an art Aoshi had learned long ago. The only other major problem had been the signature of his own ki and, even as the door swished open and he entered the dimly lit brig, he couldn't be certain that the Battousai didn't know he was coming.

The brig was near dark, as it was the ship's night, but Aoshi could still discern all the details of the room's interior, the one overhead illumination reflected in the depths of his eyes. Just as it reflected off the _other _pair of eyes…gleaming amber orbs, watching him with all the intensity of a predator. Although Aoshi had known to expect this, had felt it in the cold, dangerous waves of the man's spirit, the sight of it still crumbled the feeble, human hope that he had harbored.

_Himura, you stupid fool…how could you?_

"What do you want?" asked a hard, neutral voice through the darkness, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

"I wish to have a word with you, Lieutenant," Aoshi replied, feline ears cocked to catch the subtle nuances of sound hidden in those words. Or lack thereof; any shiver of emotion, or inflection, was absent from Himura's voice, as if he were a machine rather than a man. Even in all the years Aoshi had known Kenshin previously, not once had he seen the true face of the Battousai. Oh, he had felt it from time to time, known it existed, defeated and suppressed, as the years had passed, but now was truly the first moment those eerie eyes had met his own. Yet, surprisingly enough, he wasn't afraid, just…sad; sad, as only a friend could be.

_Yes, Himura, even now…you are still my friend._

"Is that all?" the Battousai asked, not moving a muscle as Aoshi entered the room, the door swishing shut behind him. Seated on his bunk, Kenshin had positioned himself at the perfect angle to catch any movement from within the room. "You seem to have other things planned, Commander."

_Hmm…just 'commander'? _Aoshi thought as he drew closer, watching the Battousai's eyes flick to the objects he carried under one arm. _Does that mean…?_

It seemed that Kenshin could indeed sense his ki and, from it, his intent, but he didn't appear to recognize Aoshi himself. His black-furred tail flicking back and forth, Aoshi contemplated that perhaps this was because he was no longer human; this was, based on all his information, the first time the Battousai had manifested in this life. And, not having been in contact with alien species before, the hitokiri probably couldn't make much sense of Aoshi's very altered state.

All the better for Aoshi, then.

Aoshi didn't answer the Battousai with words. Instead, he stepped silently over and tapped in a quick command to the control panel beside his cell. After a moment, the flickering white forcefield snapped off, the flash of light reflecting in two fearsome gazes. Kenshin did not move, not evening a tightening of the muscles betraying the fact that he was ready to act at any second. Prepared, deadly, assured, and silent, he was the picture of an assassin, more like some demon come alive from an ancient sumi-e painting than a man. Even the relatively plain lines of his uniform—with his rank now removed—did not bend or break this image: blood-colored hair, a cross-shaped scar, eyes as golden as a setting star.

Murderer. Manslayer. Battousai. And something else, hidden beneath that amber fire…

Aoshi may have been imagining it, but the former Oniwabanshuu wasn't one prone to delusions…not anymore, at least. While it was only the hitokiri sitting before him now, he knew that somewhere inside huddled the rurouni, alone and grieving, unable to face world. How similar it all was, almost as if a mirror-etched image had been lain over them, reflecting back at them their selves from centuries ago. The bitter despair, the brokenhearted resolution, the retreat behind a mask of ice…or, in Himura's case, a mask of fire. His old shield, awakened again by blood and tears.

Seeing this, knowing it, remembering what it felt like to lose everything, he knew what he had to do.

His heart set, Aoshi tossed the long, dark item in his left hand to the man seated on the bunk. Kenshin caught it without blinking, his motion fluid and perfect. After meeting Aoshi's eyes unflinchingly, he glanced sideways at what he now held. At first glance, it appeared to be a katana, but on further examination, it was revealed to be much more. It was made entirely of a slick black material that appeared to be tempered steel, the hilt textured in a way that vaguely resembled the grips of old. There was a handguard, without adornment and simplistic in style, though still designed like an ancient weapon from Japan. The blade itself appeared to be truly that, slightly curved with one sharp edge on its underside that gleamed ominously in the dim light. The other two Aoshi still held were similar, but shorter, resembling more closely the smaller wakizashi of samurai, though the both of them knew what they really were.

If Himura hadn't recognized him before, he certainly did now.

After another moment's silence, Aoshi shifted one into each hand and backed up several steps, sliding gracefully into a stance he had known for lifetimes. His emerald eyes flashed in the artificial light, gleaming blue ice for an instant, while his black tail cut through the shadows as it lashed back and forth. He spoke only one word.

"Come."

* * *

"Commander Worf…?"

"What is it?" Worf responded with something near to a growl, though he really didn't mean to. Stress had a way of making a Klingon rather testy, though he felt he had good reason. A human man he had come to respect in a very short amount of time was facing a situation he could not avoid, nor control, nor understand, and that did not sit well with him.

Of course, it did not sit well with any of the command crew, either. While brutal—perhaps more than that, considering the damage and the close range at which it had been dealt—Worf could find no condemnation within himself at Akimatsu's actions. The human had been defending himself, his fellow crewmate, and any innocent bystanders that might have happened upon the scene. While outright murder was not tolerated in any way, shape, or form by the Federation, what else could Akimatsu have done besides fight back?

If only it weren't for the fact that Kuronobu had been disabled before the final blow was struck…and yet, the Klingon part of Worf's mind felt it was justified. Though his knowledge of the Earth era Akimatsu was supposedly from was limited, the code in which warriors such as he had lived struck a cord in Worf's mind. And, while Akimatsu was not, by his own admission, a samurai, Worf found a desire growing in his heart to better know one of these traditional swordsmen long thought extinct. Perhaps, one day…

But there were other things to attend to at the moment. Though temporarily off-put by Worf's gruffness, the Ensign continued, glancing nervously at Worf, then at Captain Picard, who was standing out of earshot on the other side of the bridge. "Sir…the guard detail outside the brig has failed to check in."

Something in Worf stirred, his grip on the dividing rail for the upper consoles tightening to the point where the metal creaked. "How long has it been?"

"Only five minutes, but they've never been late before…"

At once, Worf surmised that one of two things had happened: either Akimatsu had somehow escaped, or someone had broken into the brig. Though it didn't appear so at first, Akimatsu escaping was the less likely of the two. The internal sensors would have detected if the forcefields had been obstructed or interrupted in any way; however, if someone had disabled the guards and just turned it off…

"Captain!"

* * *

To normal human eyes, the first exchange of blows was nothing but a sequence of blurs and flashes through the dimmed air, accompanied by sharp, ringing sounds that were unearthly high. This was understandable, considering the kinds of weapons they were using. Of Aoshi's own design, they were not as simple as they appeared to be; constructed of a particular mix of steel, duranium, and aluminum, they're true strength lay in something besides their composition. While the alloy was meant for hardiness, Aoshi had designed it to be manipulated by magnetic fields, generated by a power source gleaned from the continuous flow of electrons within the item itself.

There was a reason for this manipulation, but, for the moment, Aoshi would keep that knowledge to himself. All the Battousai need be concerned with was the sharpness of the blade, which far surpassed any ever made in the Meiji and before. Aoshi had purposefully honed the swords so that their edges were no more than a single molecule thick, allowing them to cut through the denser metals of today, as well as many things besides. With their durability, adaptability, and a power source that could not be tampered with, the swords were perfect for the new Tactical Medicine program he had been working on. Though they required skill from their user, they could be used when and where phasers could not, especially since most hostiles would not consider them as much of a threat.

At the moment, however, they were being used for something far different from protecting the wounded. Instead, the beyond-sharp blades were screeching against each other, the sound grating to any whom would bother to concern themselves with such things. Though his feline ears stung at the noise, Aoshi gave no iota of his attention to his discomfiture, instead focusing everything he had on Kenshin. The human was fast…_too _fast. As soon as their blades had crossed, he'd been on the defensive. Even though Aoshi was using two short kodachis opposite the longer katana, Himura's sensitivity and reaction time had grown to incredible heights.

Was this truly the Battousai…? The one Aoshi had wished to fight, lifetimes ago? If so, the onmitsu knew he would have never stood a chance against him, no matter his convictions. So what could he do to make the difference now? There were only a few things…

"Why, Battousai?" Aoshi whispered icily as he lunged past, blade striking against blade, but their flesh safe for the moment. "Why have you returned?"

"You don't know?" The red-haired human replied in that same neutral voice, his breathing completely unchanged. "Didn't they tell you, a long time ago?"

They had. One dim, faintly cold autumn's night, Sanosuke—sneaking back into Japan for one of his rare visits—and Megumi sitting quietly on the porch of the Aoiya. They had been speaking to Misao as he had approached from the back garden, though they had grown silent when they had caught sight of him. However, by that time—so very soon after Himura's death—things had changed between them, all of them. So he had sat as well, and listened, and understood. Though the affair with Enishi had given him greater insight, the full story had only then been known.

_So T'Ume…_

The bitter, terrible tragedy of it all cut deep, joining with his half-formed ideas from the testimony Kenshin had given earlier. And yet…emerald eyes hardening, Aoshi increased his speed, dodging around one of Kenshin's attacks and slashing low and wide, feeling the blade bite into flesh. It lasted but a second, however, Himura leaping clear with inhuman reaction time and countering with a downward strike. Aoshi, expecting it, lunged back, though the majority of his long hair was caught in his place. A good foot of silken black strands drifted to the floor, landing between them as they stood apart once more.

"Yes, I know," Aoshi replied in that steely voice, the underlying rumble of his Caitian vocal cords somehow making the words more dangerous, as though some wild beast were speaking them. And truthfully, to any man from the Meiji, Aoshi appeared just that. "I know, but I asked you 'why' and you have yet to supply me with an answer."

The silence that followed was so thick that it could have been cut with a katana and indeed it was, Kenshin rocketing forward so quickly that he almost entirely disappeared from Aoshi's eyes. The onmitsu was just able to react in time, however, parrying with a kodachi at the last second, but not totally protecting himself from injury. Aoshi sported a long gash down his right arm, somewhat matching the shallow cut along Kenshin's left hip. However, it took no effort to see who had injured whom more.

"You ask why," Kenshin murmured as Aoshi turned to face him, neither of them paying any attention to the blood dripping from their small wounds. The only spot of red that matter to Aoshi now was the tiny trails of red seeping from under the bandage on Himura's cheek. "Why…? Because she is dead. Dead **_again_**. Dead because of me!"

"That is nothing but an excuse," Aoshi said in a low, angry voice, a hint of icy fury trembling there. Control, control…but only for so long. "An excuse, Himura!"

The Battousai's answer was a renewed offensive, now more deadly than before. Unable to counter in time, Aoshi could only partially dodge the attack, receiving a deep gash in his shoulder despite his efforts. Blood splashed out from the wound, streaking across the floor, but he could not afford to be distracted. Kenshin was already coming at him again, the deadly speed of the Hiten Mitsurugi surpassing anything he had ever seen before. The tightness in the range of his kodachis was enough to save him, Aoshi mustering a defense that blocked not one, but four of the Battousai's blows before the rest of his body caught up and allowed him to dodge.

Pivoting on one foot, Aoshi lashed out behind him with a kodachi, though the blade passed harmlessly through the afterimage of the red-haired man. Instead, it was the other short sword that met the katana in the air above Aoshi's head, the onmitsu nearly collapsing under the weight of a Ryuu Tsui Sen. A second later Himura was on the floor, launching himself back at Aoshi while the Caitian was still in the midst of turning to face him. Only Aoshi's unnaturally precise new sense of balanced allowed him to meet the attack when it came, tail swinging wildly as he flowed with Kenshin's movement, blocking with one kodachi as the other flashed in a downward strike.

Kenshin leapt back as the attack came, though a second slash was opened up on his body, this time across his chest, though it was a shallow one. They stood apart once more, though, of the two, Aoshi looked more the worse for wear. It wasn't by much, but still…

"So what?" The Battousai shot back in a scathing, angry voice, his steely wall melting beneath the burning amber fire in his eyes. He was shaking openly now, agony and sorrow radiating off him in nearly palpable waves. "It doesn't matter what you call it. I have no other reason to remain as I was. I did this. I caused her to die. There was a way to keep her from dying…_and still I **failed!**_"

Sharp, gleaming teeth flashed once before Aoshi spoke, his grip tightening on his weapons in preparation for what was to come. His voice had grown even less calm than Himura's, but this change the onmitsu was _willing _to be so. **He **had control of his heart, and all the depths that lay beneath his usual mask of ice. Although, seeing his friend like this was rapidly making him lose any form of restraint he might have. He just couldn't _stand it_… "Then why are you hiding? Why are you retreating behind the hitokiri once again? I thought you had found your answer…your truth! Are you really throwing it all away?"

"What good is a truth if I cannot live by it?" Himura shot back, fury coloring his words and face. The floodgates of his mind and heart were straining and, soon, there would be nothing to hold back the torrent. At that very moment, they were cracking and crumbling, rage and helplessness and turmoil causing that terrible quaking in his body, the storming in his eyes. "What **good **is peace when I forget that I ever obtained it?"

Aoshi supposed he was lucky—or unnaturally insightful—to have not provided Himura with a sheath. If he had had to face the wealth of battoujutsu attacks at Kenshin's disposal, it was a certain thing that he would have fallen at this new onslaught. The next few moments were more of a blur than the first had been, Aoshi shoving all other thoughts aside as he struggled to keep up with the insanely fast and powerful attacks from his opponent. Even so, narrow misses caused cuts and slashes to blossom on his body, red staining the sleek black expanse of his fur. And Himura was only getting faster with each second that passed. If only Aoshi could figure out _why_…

"You still have that peace!" Aoshi shot back, finding that he had to yell to reach him, the sound of their weapons meeting again and again threatening to drown him out. "She died a second time to give it to you! Don't make **another** sacrifice for you meaningless!"

"NO! **NO!** It wasn't supposed to be like this! She said she didn't mean for it to happen that way! _I _made everything go **wrong**!"

Wincing at the vehemence and conviction in those words, as well as the accompanying sword slash that sent a deep, burning pain across his ribs, Aoshi fought to counter his friend, fully aware that the majority of the crimson on the floor was from him rather than Himura. Yes, he had managed to wound Kenshin several times already, and counter some of his attacks, but the Battousai seemed to feel nothing at all, save for the agony so agonizingly clear in his golden eyes.

_Wait…_

Gold, but bordered in violet, with broken lavender flickering like a shadow behind the fire. The Battousai…**_and _**Kenshin, both at the same time. The realization hit Aoshi harder than any of Himura's blows, the onmitsu both surprised and angry with himself for not seeing it before, not feeling it in Kenshin's ki as soon as he had entered. But such a thing had never happened before…never had anyone fathomed that those two diametrically opposed sides of the man's personality could ever coexist, but in this instance…

_He willingly hid behind the assassin. Before, the manslayer had always broken free against his wishes, but now the two sides, the experienced rurouni and the deadly hitokiri, are fighting as one, denying the pain. _

Aoshi knew at once how little chance he stood against such a combination. If he did not end this duel **now**, he would not be walking back from it. "This isn't Meiji anymore, Himura! _This isn't the same!_ She died and fought for different reasons; you battled against something you didn't understand!"

"What difference does it make?" The man who was both the raging Battousai and the weeping Kenshin screamed in fury and despair, golden eyes beginning to shed tears that became stained with blood as they traveled down his face. Aoshi wasn't sure when the bandage had torn loose from the man's face, but unhealed, cross-shaped slashes stood out like two angry red beacons on the pale skin of his left cheek. "_What difference does it make?_ No matter what you say, the **mistake was still made!**"

"Then rectify it, you selfish fool!" Aoshi roared back, a throaty snarl escaping him as he launched himself at Himura, dual obsidian-colored kodachis flashing their dark shine. He was blocked twice over, the onmitsu twisting his tightly-muscled form, desperate to find a way through both Himura's physical and mental defenses. So quickly did he move, each supple motion traced in an ever-changing nuance of grace, that he left shifting afterimages in the air. "Repent here and _live_, rather than die within your own mind! **You should know better!**"

"That is the _point_!" Kenshin countered with tragic wrath in his voice and within his smoldering eyes. In response to the beginnings of Aoshi's Kaiten Kenbu, he leapt directly upwards, using the battleground to his advantage. Both times they had fought before, the space had been fairly large, both Kanryuu's mansion and Houji's private library encompassing more than one story. But this was the _Enterprise_, a starship that knew to economize space. Thusly, the ceiling was low enough that Kenshin was able to crouch upon the smooth metal for a millisecond, body directly over the one active light. As a result, the room was bathed in almost complete darkness, save for the circle that had encompassed Himura before.

Because of this, the angled light caught on the one image that was the true Aoshi, his shadow cascading across the floor. Quicker than lightning, Kenshin propelled himself at the ninja, Aoshi forced to block with both kodachis as Kenshin slammed into him. Their blades locked, the red-haired swordsman's gaze burning into his own, terrible and sad.

"_I knew better. _I **_knew_**—knew in my heart, in my soul, whatever you want to call it!—and yet it was not avoided. It still happened," his teeth clenched as his voice almost broke, deadly hands shaking as their weapons shrieked against one another, blades altered to a molecule of sharpness striving in vain to split one another. "_I knew…_AND STILL I KILLED HER!"

"Did you hold the sword? DID YOU?" Aoshi cried as he strained against Himura, finding that, even with his increased physical strength, the small man was almost too much for him, powered by something other than the Hiten Mitsurugi.

_A broken heart…_

"No. NO! And that is _why _she is gone! Gone **_again, when I could have saved her!_**" Kenshin was not giving Aoshi a moment to recover, death and sorrow aching free of every line of his body, striving and striving towards some absolution that just _would not come_. "I could have taken what my memories offered, I could have remembered who I was, but **I…did…not. **I gave into my fear and my weakness and **I ran away!**"

A rage untold rose up in Aoshi and, in a move that clearly shocked the Battousai, he pulled his head back, then lunged with gleaming fangs for the smaller swordsman's neck. Caught off-guard, Kenshin broke off his attack, listening with unbelieving ears as Aoshi's sharp, avenging teeth snapped together in the place where his jugular had been just moments before.

Hitokiri Battousai could defeat Shinomori Aoshi, this much he knew for a certainty. However, this Aoshi was not the one he had faced in years past. Circumstances had changed, as Aoshi was all too ready to prove to him.

"So you ran away," he growled in a voice that was both human and inhuman, the familiar tones distorted by the fact that he was a lifeform no longer of the Earth. And this outspoken, fiery anger, the words said so harshly and brimming with naked feeling, were things that Kenshin had never seen before in the stoic onmitsu. Aoshi's emotions had always been carefully sealed away behind his gleaming eyes, but now…a life lived again had released the hold of ice on his heart, little as Himura could believe it, or even understand it, at all. "So you ran away…and still you run, even now! If it angers you so much, then stop this idiocy! Stop this, and _face what you have faced before!_"

"**I have no right to!**"

Discarding his surprise and hinting uncertainty with the ease of years upon years of practice, Kenshin resumed his attack, shooting off to the side before rocketing towards Aoshi, sword leaving a trail of reflected light in the air. Aoshi brought his weapons up to meet him again, his stance one that Kenshin easily recognized.

_…rokuren…_

If he used it, if he really thought he could bring Himura down…Kenshin knew he would fail. He knew he could counter Aoshi no matter what he did, for they had danced this dance before. And, even though the reasons had changed, there was no avoiding the fact that Kenshin knew Aoshi and the style that he used.

"I have no right, not to this life, or any other! Not when I put so little value in them! I feared the life that I had, and needlessly caused the destruction of this one because of it! **I do not deserve any of my memories if all I do is cringe away from them! _I do not deserve this life if all I can do is hide in it! I DO NOT DESERVE ANY HAPPINESS, NOT WHEN I ALWAYS FEAR THE SADNESS AS WELL!_**"

Kenshin ceased speaking suddenly and, before Aoshi could stop him, the human landed a solid blow in his stomach with a vicious double kick, vaulting off him as all the breath left Aoshi's lungs. Flipping in mid-air, Kenshin landed on both feet, using his momentum to launch himself at Aoshi once more, aware that he had all the time he needed to finish this. Even if the onmitsu managed to block or parry him once more, he would not have the strength to withstand his increased speed or the added power of his movement. And he certainly couldn't attack, his balance and stance broken for these few crucial seconds.

Both of them knew that Aoshi was going to die with this next attack.

"**_I cannot live in this world, Aoshi! I CANNOT!_**"

* * *

Though there was no screen to relay the visuals for what Picard and the others were hearing, the words of the two reborn officers and the sounds of their battle were enough, faithfully reproduced by the ship's comm. Every clash of their swords, every pounding, soul-filled word, was more than enough. Barred by a door jammed shut by Commander M'Rath, they had to rely on manual overrides, phasers too great of a risk when they didn't know where the inhabitants of the brig were standing at any one time. There _were _crewmembers who could force the door without relying on computers or mechanisms, but M'Rath's timing was perfect; the one they needed had left Space Dock only half an hour ago. So, Geordi's hands moved with almost inhuman speed over the manual controls, the corridor filled with dead silence from the gathered crew, Worf, Troi, and himself included; only the audio sensors with their painful rendition of what was occurring within the brig hovered through and distorted the air.

Picard fought not to clench his fists any more tightly, aware that there was nothing they could do until that door could be opened. And yet, and yet…! One of his officers, one of his crew, was going to die in there, and he could not do anything! He couldn't even understand what it was that they were going through; he had heard the history, yes, and every word spoken conveyed a little more of the meaning and memory of their lives lived long ago, but it wasn't enough. It was barely anything at all, so miniscule that he felt himself drifting farther and farther away from them. Their feelings and actions, the loss and hardship and deep, unhealing wounds they had suffered were from a world that existed only in pictures and data files, as unreal as any of the ancient, long-dead civilizations he was so fond of studying.

The very fact that he would never really know or comprehend them, and thusly could never help them, cut at the captain in a way that very little else could.

"We'll make it in time," Troi murmured at his side, though she did not open her eyes. Her hands were fisted, too, and shaking, the counselor fighting an internal battle even as the gathered officers raced against time. Picard couldn't know just how much of Himura's and M'Rath's emotions she was feeling, but there were times when the perceptions were just too strong. In those instances, she was not able to block them out, and would be carried along by the unceasing wave of chaotic minds.

He knew that that, in some part, had to be occurring now. He didn't need to be capable of sensing emotions to be aware of the pain that stormed just beyond this door. The sounds of it were enough…which was a realization that, in spite of his intolerable ignorance when it came to the pair, eased a fraction the helplessness in his heart.

Even if he could not understand them, Picard still _knew _they were in pain and could feel for them, it nothing else.

"Riker to Picard."

Startled by the voice over the ship's Comm., Picard hastily tapped his communicator, nerves wire tight. "Yes, Number One. What it is?"

"Commander Data has just returned to Space Dock."

Picard's eyes widened and a tide of almost unbearable hope rose up. He quickly brought it under control, however, and his captain's mind worked quickly. "Have him come to the Brig immediate—"

"He's already on his way, sir. He should be transporting to your location in a few seconds."

* * *

They knew it, they both knew…

…but Aoshi, unlike Kenshin, also knew that there was another way. The hitokiri's own detachment from this world, from the life he refused to live, would cause his downfall. After all, if the Starfleet Officer in him had been allowed to rise to the surface, Kenshin would have guessed what was coming. He would have analyzed the situation in a manner totally unfamiliar to a manslayer, seeing and suspecting things that humans in long ago Meiji Japan could not have even dreamed of before. He would have anticipated Aoshi's actions, countered them, and won the battle.

But Kenshin had already sealed his own fate by continuing the cycle of distance and denial and despair, blinded by his own sorrow.

Himura…

A fraction of a second before Kenshin's sword would have connected with the crossed blades of his kodachis, knocking them aside and away, Aoshi's thumbs shifted on the hilts of his weapons. It was a minor movement, quick and practiced, the tips of his fingers sliding down the small, oval nub just beneath the handguards. Kenshin's weapon carried such an apparatus as well, which served exactly the same purpose, but to anyone of more than a century past, they would not have even noticed it, much less questioned what it did.

…how can you say that you cannot live, when you have not even tried?

"…I have lived by throwing everything away…"

Even that no longer applies…

The tiny, inconspicuous nub was a touch-sensitive adjustment, lowering or raising the intensity of the mini-field that held the molecules of the weapons together. When a finger was run over it in a certain direction, the density of the blade and the sharpness of its edge changed, honing it to either a molecule's thickness or a solid square block of material. In this way the weapons could be safely stored, or locked in a non-cutting state in the event that an officer was captured or killed. In this situation, however, this simple function served a very different purpose.

There is no excuse to turn away. None at all.

Kenshin was not prepared when his sword cut cleanly and easily through Aoshi's weapons, no resistance offered whatsoever now that the blades were flat and blunt. As a result, his motion continued unchecked, the red-haired swordsman flying past Aoshi as the reborn ninja dropped his kodachis. This left both his hands free, Kenshin just able to see the blur of black fur and gleaming, deadly claws before ten points of burning, needle-point pain slammed into his shoulder and back.

Aoshi had grabbed hold of him, claws digging deep in precisely the right positions to paralyze all of Kenshin's right arm, causing the sword he held to clatter to the floor. Kenshin had been unable to dodge, momentum and surprise stealing from him any chance of retaliation. As it was, he could do nothing as Aoshi spun once, dragging the slender form around, and slammed the human into the wall, loosing his grip just enough so that two sets of long, deep gashes were torn all down Kenshin's back. The top part of his uniform flew in all directions, accompanied by a rain of blood, a huge splatter of crimson splashing over the wall.

A-Aoshi…

"What happened?"

Shouldn't…shouldn't I k-know…?

After a moment that seemed to drag on into eternity, Kenshin slid down to the floor, head falling forward as he hit, adding a few more droplets of red below, dripping still from the scar on his face. However…however, it had slowed, sluggish now, almost half-hearted in its sentiment.

"Himura…," Aoshi said in a voice far more recognizable, free now of stormy feeling, but holding within all the power that was his heart. For how long had it existed? Since he had been reborn? Or…always? "Himura…this is a second chance we were both given. It is not a time to push it away. If I am here…if they were here…just how many more of those precious to us live now in this age? How many?"

"Kenshin…Kenshin…"

"…Ken-san…"

"Mr. Himura…!"

"Hey, Samurai Boy!"

"Right, Kenshin?"

"…anata…"

"Koishii…"

"Kenshin!"

"…Shinta."

How many?

Was the amber light fading? Was the blood really ceasing to fall? Was there something of the man Aoshi knew in that blank expression, in those listless hands? Was it fading…?

How…many? Just one…just one more…

"…if you have something to hold onto…"

"Kenshin!"

Waiting…somewhere, out there…waiting for me…

"Shinta!"

"…something you can't let go of…"

"Kenshin—Shinta!"

A reason, a reason…a **way**…

"Kenshin…," the violet-eyed human murmured softly in a voice that was both old and new, faint and strong. His head rose once more, the red marks on his cheek bright and accusing…but they no longer bled. "And Shinta…both the past and the future, as one…"

Slow, unsteady, and shaking, he rose to his feet, swaying back and forth for a moment to two, then righting himself with a hand on the stained wall. He did not slip, however, and his tired, relieved, soft violet eyes met Aoshi's, something profound and indescribable in their depths.

"Do you really think…they're here, somewhere?"

Did Aoshi smile? It was very difficult to tell in the dim light…

"Do you really need an answer?"

…to hold onto…

Kenshin let his eyes slide shut for a moment, his own, familiar smile on his face. "…no, I don't."

"Commander M'Rath! Lieutenant Akimatsu!"

Kenshin was a bit shocked as he stared past Aoshi to the now destroyed brig doors, the thick barricades bent inwards by Data's inhuman strength. Sometime during those last few, critical moments, Captain Picard and an entire contingent of Security personnel had streamed into the small space…yet they hadn't noticed them, hadn't stopped their duel. And they _hadn't been stopped _themselves. They had been allowed to finish what they had started. Aoshi had been given the time to reach Kenshin, and Kenshin himself had spent a few eternal moments righting what was wrong.

_They…he…understood…_

Realizing this, Kenshin's exhausted gaze met his Captain's, seeing tightly-held anger and worry and helplessness and astonishing awareness. He had seen, known, watched, believed…and understood. He had _let _them fight in the end, even when it would have meant the loss of at least one life. He had let them…and, perhaps because of it, Kenshin had found himself again.

"A-Arigatou…," Kenshin whispered before, at last, his thinly-stretched strength gave out, his slender form collapsing to the floor.

* * *

Yo! Back again, at last! With the story, anyway. As much fun as the Jin'e insert was, we all wanted to get back to Kenshin and Aoshi, yes? And how nice it was!

Things might have seemed a little…strange, though, but with good reason, at least to my eyes. I tried to get this across as best I could, but it must be realized that Aoshi—and, in essence, _all _the RK characters—are not and never will be again exactly how they were before. They've all had new lives, after all, and no one ever stays the same forever. Aoshi is a really good example of how I am working with the characters, hence one of the reasons I used him first (besides the fact that he's all that). I mean, Aoshi still has all the inherent character traits and nuances he did as a human ninja, but has anyone ever wondered what he would have been like had he had a rather…erm, raucous family life, full of aunts and uncles and cousins and siblings? Ever wondered what traits and nuances would have emerged to balance his withdrawn, contemplative silence in response to a home that wasn't empty and tinged with the scent of blood?

Heh, I intend to fully explore and present Aoshi's family in this life in later chapters, so look forward to that. As a matter of fact, I intend to bring as many RK characters into this as possible: in fact, I plan to have EVERYBODY appear in this fic (and this is in response to everyone who's been asking for certain characters, or just more in general). The more I think about it, the more insanely long this is becoming, but I don't care. I'm writing this without an outline, so chapters and sequences are crystallizing in my mind one at a time, or several for an arc-like section, making it more like a TV series with episodic pacing.

Basically, I love how this fic is developing and, like I said last chapter, I don't intend to stop. Currently, it feels as though I may be writing this for years, and I couldn't be happier. However, considering how long it takes me to get parts out sometimes, I thought I might be nice and give you the titles for the sequences I currently have planned out in my head. I won't tell you what happens in them beyond a word or two, but something is better than nothing, no? So, here we go:

The Last of the Wolves – Saitou

Until We Meet Again – Kenji

Her Most Beautiful Smile – Enishi

Rurouni Kenshin the Movie 2: Or, Ode to My Past Self – Kenshin, Q (Mega Insert)

These are just a few, but they've been in my mind the longest in one form or another, so they are going to appear for sure. I'm certain we're all looking forward to that time!


	16. I Know Tears, Part 4

****

A Glint of Amber Stars

By

Rem-chan

Sequence Four: I Know Tears, Part Four

_Anata…_

"T-Tomoe?"

Adun…

"…T'Ume?"

Both, my t'hy'la. Both, for you. Always for you.

"But I…"

You are alive. Live, my love, as you always have…for me.

"I…I **can**…but I'm afraid."

I was afraid, too. To know that I might lose you still, even with the time that has passed. History has not let us be, despite all that I try.

"I'm sorry."

Don't be. The chance to love again, for however brief a time, was priceless beyond compare. Cherish it, as I cherish you, and live again. There are those that would be very unhappy if you did not.

"H-Hai…Aoshi was adamant, that he was."

A gentle smile, a soft laugh that lit the darkness that he could not see.

_He is not the only one. They're waiting for you, anata, waiting for you to find them. They need you._

A pale, reaching hand, violet eyes seeking the voice that was veiled in shadows.

_"But you…please, don't go…"_

Do not worry. I will never leave you. I never have. If you are ever in need of me, seek inside your heart; I will be there.

"…Tomoe…"

The scent of plum blossoms tinged with sunlit fire, the spring of human softness and the summer of Vulcan strength filtering through the haze that covered all.

There was no winter now.

No snow.

_They're waiting, adun. **She's **waiting. With them is where you need to be, even in these times. You still have something to hold onto, something to covet with all the kindness that you carry. Don't ever let it go, no matter what comes. She will be there, waiting at the end of the darkest tunnel to bring you the light that I cannot._

"…Kaoru, she…she's here?"

Yes…all you need to do is find her. You can't do that if you continue to grieve, so leave behind this useless sorrow. I have not gone, and I do not intend to. Live, my love, and smile again. It is worthwhile…

…I promise.

The darkness was receding, leaving only the lingering presence of a warm, tender hand on his brow and a sense of absolute peace in the quiet autumn that was his gradually healing heart.

****

……………

"I would still prefer if you left it," Kenshin told Dr. Crusher several days later, smiling apologetically as he shook his head at the dermal regenerator she offered. "I'm sure you've discovered by now why I must keep this scar."

"Well, yes, but still…," she gave him a look, then sighed, placing her instrument back on the side table next to the biobed. "Fine, if that is what you would like. Other than that, you're all checked out. However, there are some things I would like to discuss with you concerning the sword techniques you've been using."

Kenshin almost winced, though he managed to restrain himself. He was just glad they were alone in sickbay, Aoshi having returned to his quarters earlier that day. Kenshin himself hadn't been conscious for most of their stay in sickbay, so he actually hadn't spoken to the onmitsu since their duel. He sorely wished to talk, but he had no idea what to say. At the moment, Beverly seemed the better of the two, though, really, it was difficult enough as it was.

Now that he had a clean bill of health, certain things were going to _have _to be resolved, however much he did not wish it to be so.

"I don't intend to continue using the Mitsurugi style Beverly-dono, so there is no need for you to worry, that there is not."

Beverly gave him a look, as if she knew something he did not, and simply stated, "Be that as it may, I still want to clear this up with you. You probably already know this from…experience, but those techniques are slowly but steadily destroying your tissues. Muscular, epidermal, internal, everything. While this won't affect you immediately, after a number of years it will reach the point where your body will no longer be able to function. In fact, such degeneration will invite extremely destructive viruses and bacteria that human tissues are normally totally immune to. I've only had two instances in which to observe this harmful phenomenon, but it is easy enough to tell, even at this point."

_Viruses and bacteria? _Kenshin silently repeated, the newly-educated portion of his mind reviewing the medical expertise he now carried. _Brought about by the weakness in my over-used body…and if they were contagious…_

That would explain a great many things indeed.

"Though I know fighting is the last thing you want to do," she continued, earning his attention with the resolution and seriousness in her voice and eyes. "If you, by any slim chance at all, continue to breach human limitations, I want you to report to sickbay for monthly cellular therapy sessions to restore the damaged tissues. If you do that on a regular basis, you can eliminate the danger completely. And this is an order, Lieutenant, so don't forget."

For a long time, all that Kenshin could do was stare. Then stare some more. And stare just a bit more after that. It was so strange, having a solution to the complication that had killed him in his previous life presented so quickly and simply. Though his memories were now blending together, his two lives fighting to form into a new person, it was still a shock to realize that, unlike before, Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu was not a physical danger to him. Not anymore. And yet…

"I thank you for this, Beverly-dono," Kenshin said with sincerity, a small smile on his tired face. "Even though there may never be reason to, I am glad to know that…that it can be different this time."

She seemed to mull over that for a moment, then crossed her arms, eyeing him with a serious gravity. "Just what do you think is going to happen to you now, Lieutenant?"

Kenshin was off-put by her reference to his rank for a moment, his previous personality balking at any notion of authority that he might hold, but he overcame it quickly enough. Like it or not, without his past hanging over him, he had chosen, essentially, a military career. However, he could not deny the path within Starfleet that he had followed, that being the role of a healer. And, though starships were often involved in combat, those doctors that served on them were still beholden to an oath that had not changed in many, many centuries.

Even as he answered his fellow healer, he could still remember the words he had spoken what was, truthfully, a lifetime ago…

_"…and this I swear by Apollo the Physician, and Aesculapius, and Health and Allheal His daughters, and by all the other Gods and Goddesses, and the One above Them Whose Name we do not know…"_

"My actions were not tolerable, Beverly-dono, regardless of my situation," Kenshin replied in that same soft, accepting voice, violet eyes meeting hers squarely. "Though you and all of the senior officers now know of who I was, that does not change the fact that I endangered the crew and…murdered another. I expect a court martial when the Captain receives the reply from Starfleet Headquarters, at the very least."

Beverly looked like she wanted to argue, but they both knew it was true. While the crew, and, most importantly, Captain Picard, understood Kenshin's situation, there were still a lot of higher-up officials who would not. And, despite the _Enterprise_'s penchant for dodging severe punishment, this time was far different from all the others. After all, how would a past life coming back to haunt a man be handled? Especially when it happened to more than one person?

"I hope Aoshi will at least be pardoned," Kenshin murmured, then smiled again at Beverly's slightly confused look. "Commander M'Rath, I mean. Obviously, he and I knew each other long ago, but everything that he did was for the good of the crew, and myself, whereas I was…without sufficient purpose. He should be spared any punishment, that he should."

"Personally, I think both of you are without guilt, nevermind what you may think, Himura," Beverly replied without hesitation, making sure to use the name he now preferred to go by. Though her voice was stern, her eyes smiled kindly. "Though few of us can really understand what drove you to do what you did, I find that you are not a person to be condemned. That is all."

"But you are not the one passing judgement," Kenshin reminded her softly, acceptance on his face. If there was one thing he was able to do, it was to bear the burden of his own bloody sword. "I am prepared, Beverly-dono. You don't have to worry about me, that you do not."

"But I do, Himura. We all do," she told him in that same assured voice, then sighed, gesturing towards the door. "Your escort is waiting for you outside. Seeing as the brig is still being repaired, you will be confined to quarters until we receive Starfleet's reply message."

"We will not be taken anywhere else?" Kenshin questioned, slightly confused. After all, they _were _currently 'parked' at Space Dock, with easy access to any part of Earth and the surrounding space. "I…I would have thought Starfleet would have wanted me kept somewhere more…secure."

"Well, it was the _Enterprise _crew that kept you fairly confined before this, right? And I get the feeling that not too many other people want to risk taking you in," Beverly said with a grin just before she whisked into her office. "Captain Picard just couldn't find the heart to tell them that you were harmless."

Kenshin stared at the doorway for a moment or two, mystified, then laughed, glad of a moment to smile again, especially when at least some small part of the expression was not forced.

****

……………

When Captain Picard entered Lieutenant…Himura's quarters, he found the red-haired man laying on his bed, head tilted to the left to watch the hustle and bustle of Space Dock outside his cabin window. Countless blue and silver lights shone down on his slender form, causing his hair to gleam strangely and his eyes to be hidden in shadow, save for the telltale gleam that spoke of his perfect awareness. He seemed as immovable as stone, no part of him restive as he simply watched shuttlecraft and starships drift by, all of him oddly distant from the activity beyond. Only the gradual rise and fall of his chest gave any indication of life, the hands crossed behind his head creating the illusion of casual rest.

However, Picard had been in such a state so many times before that he easily recognized the sign of deeper thoughts. Himura had a lot to think about, he knew, and not much time in which to ponder. And yet…Picard was loathe to interrupt him, aware that it was hard to find that state of stillness again after it had been lost for the first time. Often, he himself was reduced to drowning out distraction with music, or busy work, trying to find some semblance of order in disorder, however illogical it might be.

The time for retreat was already past, though, as Himura tilted his head the other way and instantly caught sight of him. Quickly getting into a sitting position, Himura moved to stand, but Picard motioned for him to stay.

"I'm just here to talk, Lieutenant. I'm off-duty at the moment, actually," Picard said affably, taking a seat at a table near the bed.

"A starship captain…off-duty?" Himura questioned, the faintest hint of humor in his shadowed eyes, giving Picard some hope.

"Unlikely, I'll admit, but perhaps it will happen one day," Picard replied, willing a smile that was a tad too difficult for his liking.

"Indeed," Himura said, his own mainly-fabricated smile emerging in response. It faded into something a little more real after a moment, however, Kenshin's eyes lowering to the floor. "I…I want to thank you, Captain, for…understanding. I do not think I would be sitting here as I am now if we had been interrupted."

"Is that so?" Picard politely questioned, though his eyes said more than his words. "You are welcome, but tell me…just what are you now, in your own opinion?"

Kenshin appeared caught off-guard, staring at Picard with some surprise. The older man did not change his expression, however, and simply waited for Kenshin's response. In the end, Kenshin looked away, his distant violet eyes resting on the small holo of his parents.

They were a man and woman unamazing in appearance, save for a few revealing nuances such as carriage and the hidden expressions in their eyes. They wore civilian's clothing, simple yet well-made and perfectly suited to each of them. The woman was small, of Himura's height and size, but with the heavier build of one who worked inside most of her life, though her hands were still slender and delicate. The man was taller, lean and almost lanky, his hair an inky black to his wife's burnished red, his eyes cognac brown in contrast to her faded gray. They were of mixed descent, though both were dominated by Japanese lines, resulting in a son who had the distinct features of the East, but with coloring lifted from other faraway countries.

It raised the question of fate, then, to have two individuals come together and produce a child so like a man from centuries past, carrying his memories and his burdens. Picard could not fully decide if he believed in such a concept, and resigned himself to never really finding a satisfactory answer.

"I am…both. And neither. Or at least, I am becoming such. At the moment, I am more Kenshin than I am Shinta. It is…difficult for me to recall the details of my life here, small things surprising me when they should not. Eventually, I may be able to blend both my lives as Aoshi has, but I do not know how long that may take. For now, I am a stranger in a strange land, even though I have lived here many years already."

Kenshin didn't say any more than that, though Picard could see that there was indeed a great deal more behind those veiled eyes. When one really thought about it, it was easy to realize just how much existence dwelled within Kenshin; two lifetimes, one of them already completed, and countless other lives that he must have known and affected. It had to have hit him by now that all the people that he had ever known were dead, their children dead, and their children's children, but there was also the hope that they were reborn as he had been. As Commander M'Rath proved—and T'Ume and Kuronobu, according to Himura's testimony—they were not alone in these times.

Yet the conflict within the younger man was also easy to discern, the guilt of his actions at war with events that must have taken place in his previous years. The tilt of his mouth, the clenching of his hands, the flickering, muted fire at the back of his gaze…each a tiny testament to a soul divided many times over, however calm it was on the surface. Kenshin may have shown that he was ready to accept punishment from Starfleet, but he was already bearing his own brand of inner punishment. He was not allowing his heart rest, nor solace; just an absolution that was simply a bending to the wills of others.

Picard was aware that, at the moment, there was little else that Himura could actually do, but the finality of giving one's self up to 'greater forces' irked him to no end. It hit a little too close to home, actually, bringing to bear memories of sleepless nights spent trying not to recall more vividly certain things he could not undo.

Coming to a decision, he spoke again, "Be that as it may, Lieutenant, keep in mind that you are not alone in your…solitude. Can you expect every member of this crew besides you to be perfectly at ease in their lives? Just because your situation is more severe does not mean you suffer through it beyond the reach of your fellows."

Picard could see that he had surprised Kenshin again, as bemused and faintly thankful violet eyes glanced back his way. "That is very…astute, Captain, that it is. I am aware that things are changed from how they were when I first lived. And Aoshi is proof that I do not have to remain exiled from the life I have been given here. However, I still performed actions prohibited by Starfleet and Federation law and I will not choose to dodge justice when I know it is deserved, that I will not."

Picard wanted to protest, but he knew Kenshin had him there. Even the Captain was bound by the rules of their world, however much he had bent and broken them over the course of his career. In the end, some kind of judgement would still fall upon Himura, despite his best efforts to stop it.

That, perhaps, irked him most of all.

"Even so, what I am more concerned about at this time is how you believe we are currently regarding you. Though you may already know this, you are considered an integral part of his crew and I, for one, intend for you to remain as such."

Kenshin smiled at that, proving that yes, he did know, at least in some part. "And I am truly grateful for that, Captain. While there are many uncertain things, it is…nice to have something that cannot be disputed, that it is. Still…I believe it would be best if I remove from your ship the danger of my presence and the stain my deeds have created."

Picard's eyes narrowed, the older man remaining tactfully silent as Himura got slowly to his feet. One pale hand retrieved a small PADD from the desk near his bed. Activating the screen, Kenshin offered it to Picard and, once he had taken it, the red-haired man bowed low in that same ancient manner as before.

"Picard-sama…sessha would like to submit his resignation from Starfleet. Sessha does not wish to mangle the _Enterprise_'s legacy with his deeds, nor does he wish to place a crew that has so graciously cared for him in unnecessary danger."

There was stillness for a moment, unearthly blue and silver lights streaming through the window to dance between them. Picard gazed at the bowed, flame-shrouded head for a moment, the frail-seeming build, the immaculate uniform, and the pale hands that did not tremble.

"Resignation denied, Lieutenant. And if I hear such nonsense from you again, you'll suffer much worse than Starfleet Headquarters could ever conceive of doing."

Kenshin instantly straightened, staring at Picard with open-mouthed shock. "B-But, after all this, sessha can't possibly—"

"Don't be a fool. What kind of reputation do you think my ship _has_, exactly? And danger? Every starship that leaves this dock, and all the docks like it, enters danger, every crew completely aware of what they are going to face," Picard's hard expression smoothed into something softer, though not by much. He got the impression that, right now, Himura needed some kind if stability, a pillar with which to support himself. And, while Picard knew he himself wasn't all that stable inside, he could certainly provide such strength when required. That was what being a starship captain meant, after all.

"This may seem a ridiculously obvious thing to say, but times have changed. No single person, or small group of well-meaning individuals, has to shoulder the entire burden anymore. And whether or not you are here, there will be trials to face and lives endangered. However, if you remain, it is highly likely that the danger will be lessened, no matter what you may think."

Truthfully, Picard was somewhat surprised by his words, at how they welled up from somewhere inside a forgotten, ill-used corner of his heart. He had a sneaking suspicion what it was, that tiny presence awakened by his touch with the Nexus; the self within him that knew what it was to be a father. Though Kenshin was no child, Picard was still over twenty years his senior and, against all odds, paternal instincts were trying to sneak their way to the surface. In the meantime, Kenshin was staring at him as though he had sprouted an extra head, violet eyes wide and full of emotion. In the end, Himura did the only thing he seemed capable of at the moment.

He smiled.

"Riker to Picard."

The both of them were so surprised by the sudden sound that they jumped where they stood, though Picard quickly tapped his Comm badge. "What is it, Number One?"

"We just received Starfleet's reply."

"Ah," Picard responded, getting to his feet. His eyes met Kenshin's across the room, though the understanding stretching between them had not wavered. "I'll take it in my office."

"Err…there's no need, sir," Riker continued, surprising him. "It is only a text message."

"…what?"

"I know, it surprised me, too," the Commander said in a bemused voice, sounding concerned and suspicious at the same time. "I knew you wouldn't mind, so I took the liberty of looking it over; it wasn't even encoded, after all. From what I can tell, Himura's case is being transferred."

Picard's brows shot up, his own surprised gaze mirroring Kenshin's. "Transferred? To where?"

"Temporal Investigations," Riker replied, his bafflement clearly communicated over the line. "And, while I get half of their reasoning, it is still obvious that this isn't the kind of thing they work with. I really have no idea why that decision was reached."

"Neither do I, Will," Picard sighed, feeling a headache coming on. To have such a grave situation on his hands was one thing; it was another to have it lost amidst a sea of red tape and crossed wires. "Are there any preliminary orders?"

"Not quite that, but I don't think this is any better," came the answer, Riker no-doubt making a face at the screen he was probably reading. "They're sending us an evaluator in two days time to analyze the situation and report back to the head of Temporal Investigations with their findings. It's only then that some kind of permanent decision is going to be reached."

"That sounds a bit too complicated for my liking," Picard commented in a slightly harder voice, him and Kenshin sharing a telling look. Both of them could easily discern that there was more to this than the message was letting on. "Just who is this evaluator?"

"Hmm…an Inspector by the name of Goro Fujita."

Picard had a moment to feel an odd twinge of recognition at that name before, across from him, Kenshin hit the floor.

"ORO!"

****

……………

Hahahaha. I love it. XD

Yahoo, back again! And how good it feels, ne? I actually had this chapter done a while back; I just didn't post it 'cause I like to see you people squirm! Heh, just kidding! I actually wanted to be a good ways into the next chapter before I posted this one, so I always stay a little ahead. Makes things simpler, ne?

Well, things are certainly heating up, that they are! Prepare for the return of…SOMEONE next chapter and more fun introspection for Kenshin! As well as some of the humor that has been sadly absent…

Reviews!

**Author-chan: **It was kinda funny, really…I'm re-reading my reviews and I see your name and am all "Hey, that looks familiar…". Heh, having just finished reading the latest chapter of _Like Father Like Son _jogged my memory a bit. XD

Anyway, some of your answers are coming next chapter, but as for Keiji…originally, I didn't intend to have him reappear. Now, I'm wavering a bit on that…and yes, he actually _is _an original character. Part of my focus of the inserts is the relationships of the reborn people with the people of this day and age. It's rather fun, if I do say so myself!

Also, on a side note…Keiji is actually named after a video game/historical character! Can you guess you?

**J.Rhaye: **Kaoru…? Well…let's just say I like to torture people, especially Kenshin. XD

**daniel-gudman: **In what way did I screw up the Battousai, if I may ask? I was trying to make it clear that he was _not _the same Battousai that he was in his previous life. Namely, he was Kenshin **and **the Battousai at the same time, and that will certainly bring about some changes. I am sorry if I didn't make this clear enough for you. I shall do better in the future!

**Wistful-Eyes: **Ahh, Enishi…all I'm going to say is watch out for future inserts!

**Sailor-Earth13: **We'll eventually see just what Aoshi is looking for, and what he already has…

Anywhoo, I think that's all, so see you again soon!


	17. Insert: Gifts

****

A Glint of Amber Stars

By

Rem-chan

Insert: Gifts

Or, For Happiness, Always

"Ah! Ah, ah!"

"You want your toy, Shinta?" Kasumi Akimatsu asked with a smile, taking her son's insistent violet eyes and reaching hands as a 'yes'. Kneeling down on the dojo floor, she offered him his favorite stuffed tanuki, the one and a half year-old grabbing it with all his baby strength. Holding it tightly to his chest, he plopped back down on the cushioned blanket set out for his use, gurgling happily. "You really love that one, don't you, big boy?"

"Bwee!"

"You can keep asking the questions, but I think he'll start talking when he's good and ready to, not before," Kenichi Akimatsu told his wife with a chuckle as he walked through the door, bright sunlight streaming in behind him before the automatic shoji slid shut. "He seems to like taking things at his own pace."

"I know," Kasumi said a bit wistfully, playfully poking her son in the stomach and listening with adoring ears as he squealed and giggled. "A mother can hope though, can't she?"

"I'd say yes," Kenichi answered, placing a chaste kiss on his wife's lips as she stood to greet him. "How are you taking leave?"

"Let's see…," she murmured, tapping her chin with a slim finger, a few ruthlessly straight strands of auburn hair falling into her soft gray eyes. "I'm away from all the hustle and bustle of Headquarters, free of any strange demands on my time, skills, or budget; I don't have any admirals breathing down my neck, I haven't gotten any frantic calls from starships in some godforsaken corner of the quadrant…"

She laughed, garnering her son's attention so that the red-haired toddler struggled to his feet, swaying back and forth as he did so. "To tell you the truth, it's a little strange. I feel like a kid skipping out on school, really."

Kenichi sighed, gathering his wife in a big-brotherly huge. "Oh, my poor koiishi! To forever be tethered to work, never to enjoy the fullness of domestic life and the ever-tender arms of her husband!"

In retaliation, Kasumi gave him a playful jab in just the right spot to send him tumbling to the floor.

"ITAI! No fair!"

"You should have expected that one, Mr. Captain of the Whole World," she chortled, offering a hand to help him to his feet. "What are you doing back, anyway? I thought you'd be at Space Dock a few more days."

"Well, I _was_…," Kenichi began, then spotted Shinta stumbling towards them, his adorable face tight with concentration. Loose, slender clumps of bright, bright red hair poked out in odd directions, one shoulder of his pale green child's yukata nearly sliding off. Kenichi made an adorable face in return and gestured empathetically towards his son. "But how could I stay away from _that_?"

"Indeed, how?" Kasumi questioned with another laugh, watching with delighted eyes as Shinta was stopped short, his tanuki caught in a fold of the blanket. The toddler glanced back over his shoulder, big, lavender eyes blinking with a child's innocent confusion.

"…'ro?"

"What are you going to do now, Shinta?" Kenichi asked in a hushed, dramatic whisper as he crouched next to his son. "Can you get it for Otousan?"

"…weh?"

"I guess not."

"Who's the one asking futile questions now?" Kasumi inquired with a raised brow, yanking her husband back up by his slender black ponytail. Now, being in Starfleet, he wasn't supposed to have overly long hair; however, due to 'long-standing historical tradition' Kenichi was allowed to keep it tied to the crown of his head like the samurai of old. Personally, Kasumi thought that was a load of tribbles; really, Kenichi just wanted to look 'dashing'. However, he'd been trying to do that since they'd attended the Academy together and, so far, she wasn't impressed. "Do you think we're making it too easy for him? I mean, by always knowing what he wants and giving it right away…"

"Your sisters certainly think so," Kenichi replied, rolling his eyes. "I don't now how many times either Akane or Sakura have accosted me about it."

"That's funny…they've never come to _me_."

"That's because you're rather intimidating, koiishi."

"Oh, really?"

Kenichi fidgeted, aware of what was coming when his wife got that particular gleam in her eye and instead slung his carry bag off his shoulder. "Ah, I just remembered the other reason I'm here."

Letting it slide just this once, Kasumi quirked a brow again. "Is that so? It doesn't have anything to do with students again, does it?"

"No, actually," Kenichi answered, though he paused to shrug his shoulders. "I think they've got the idea now: this dojo is closed, it's been closed for a good century, and it's going to stay closed. It's somewhat hard to teach the style when the last master passed away without training an apprentice."

Kasumi nodded, though she could easily discern the sadness in her husband's cognac-colored eyes. "It _is _a shame, though. There are so few pure swordstyles left, from before the Eugenics Wars…I can understand how they can't accept what's been lost. But there really is nothing we can do. Even the records of the Ougi were lost before your great-grandfather passed away."

"And the blame for that would be the Third World War," Kenichi finished with a sigh, an old sentiment evident in his voice. "I think about that sometimes, koiishi; I remember why it was that I joined Starfleet."

"To try and prevent that kind of tragedy from happening again," Kasumi said softly, gently clasping her husband's face with her hands. Her smile was small and kind, carrying a wisdom that, even now, surprised and awed Kenichi. "However, you're forgetting something, anata; the Earth, at least, is at peace. I know it will never be perfect, but these are days in which our son can grow up free of the horrors of war amongst his own people, of bloodshed on his own street. Many things were sacrificed, I know, but these times are a gift…a gift given to our Shinta so that he may live, and choose his own life, without tragedy."

After a moment, Kenichi loosed a soft, understanding sigh, taking one of his wife's hands and placing a kiss on her palm. His rich eyes twinkled as he released her, once more rifling through his bag. "Speaking of gifts, koiishi…I would say this is deserved."

Brows furrowing, Kasumi glanced down…and gasped.

"Kenichi! But isn't that…?"

"Yes, Tholian silk," he replied, placing the beautiful, shimmering scarf into her hands. "It was somewhat difficult to obtain, but it was worth it."

Silenced by her awe, Kasumi let the exquisite, unearthly fabric flow over her hands, feeling more like the cool brush of spring wind rather than any kind of cloth. And the color! Full and deep, it was both indigo and azure, yet neither, faint glimmers of some brighter pinpoints—like stars—just visible within.

"Kenichi, I…"

"…'ru!"

Stunned, both parents looked down at their child, surprised at the sudden, utterly delighted look on his face. While always a happy boy before, he looked absolutely rapturous now, a bright, bright smile lighting his features, violet eyes softened with joy and a kind of love they had never seen before. His stuffed animal now discarded, he reached once more, tiny hands seeking the glistening scarf in his mother's grasp.

"Ru, ru!"

"I think…he wants it, anata," Kasumi murmured, glancing sideways at her husband.

"I would say so," Kenichi said softly in return, meeting her gaze. "But what do you think he's trying to say?"

"Should we give it to him and see if he finishes the word?"

"It might be worth a try. Although, koiishi, if you think he might ruin it…"

"RU!"

Kasumi smiled again, once more kneeling on the floor and offering the scarf to her son. "I think we can trust Shinta, don't you?"

Kenichi joined her, watching as Shinta glanced between them, as if asking for permission. "…yes. Yes, I do. Do you want it, Shinta? You can have it, if you do."

Shinta gave a squeal of happiness and, much to their surprise, gently clasped the priceless cloth, clutching it to his chest. Suddenly filled with peace and stillness, the little boy sat back down on the floor, burying his face into the soft folds of the scarf with a relieved, contented smile.

"Ru…'oru…"

_"O…k'ri…n'…sai…"_

"…Kaoru."

Come on, say it with me…AWWWWWWWWW! This wasn't _really _an update, I know, but I couldn't help posting it. I do intend to get on with the story (and Saitou!) soon, but I'm just a lazy bum. Sometimes a busy bum, but mainly lazy. Although, I don't think I need to repeat the fact that I will finish this, no matter what. Nope, don't need to! ;D

Anyway, there are many little messages in this insert, though I'm sure you can get them all. The ending was because I really wanted some K/K action…even though it isn't really. Still, it was nice, ne?

Until I finally get off my butt and get on with the story, live long and prosper!

P.S. Eugenics Wars – conflicts between normal humans and those that were genetically enhanced/engineered. Supposedly happened around 1993 AD or so…

Third World War – just what it sounds like. I think it happened…2053 AD? Gah, need to watch _Star Trek: First Contact _again…so I'll get back to you on that!


	18. The Last of the Wolves, Part 1

****

A Glint of Amber Stars

By

Rem-chan

Sequence Five: The Last of the Wolves, Part One

Waiting in the middle of the transporter room, trying not to fidget and literally sweating bullets, one Kenshin Himura—or Lieutenant Shinta Akimatsu, according to Starfleet records—could think of several places he would rather be. However, all of those were nigh impossible, seeing as he was still on house arrest, as it were. Until such time as his 'fate' could be decided, he was temporarily suspended from duties, confined to quarters most of the time but, otherwise, not under any kind of penal action. It was more like a paid vacation, really, but Kenshin felt like he was paying each second in blood, waiting and waiting for the 'Inspector' to arrive.

Truthfully, there was no evidence besides his name that Goro Fujita was, in fact, who Kenshin suspected him to be, but the rurouni-turned-officer couldn't convince himself that it_ wouldn't _be Saitou Hajime stepping off that platform in five minutes time. His captain, however, remained skeptical, though Kenshin had promptly informed Picard that he thought Saitou had been reborn just as he had. It had been an…interesting briefing after that, the meeting including himself and all the senior officers, with the addition of Aoshi…or rather, M'Rath. Worf was still onboard, but Aoshi had officially accepted his position just prior to the little 'incident' in the brig. And, since Starfleet hadn't mentioned anything about the Caitian, he was going about just as usual.

However, while Kenshin would have thought Aoshi's presence would have resulted in some relief on his part, the swordsman was still having a hard time even _looking _at the man…er, cat. And that was the problem, really. Unlike Aoshi, Kenshin was still unable to fully integrate himself with this life's memories. They were _there_, of course, but meshing them with his rurouni self was more difficult than he liked to admit. He was **trying**, yes, but it seemed just trying would not be enough. What else was needed, though…Kenshin had no idea. Did Aoshi have something that Kenshin did not? It certainly seemed so, as the ninja-turned-feline went about just as he had before he had remembered himself, though now, he carried a long black sheath strapped to his back at all times.

Kenshin visibly winced as he recalled the 'swords' he and Aoshi had used during their duel. While expertly made and without flaw, Kenshin could not get over the fact that, even in these times, he had still taken a deadly—deadli_er_, in this case—weapon into hand. He didn't have it anymore, of course, but he had been informed that those involved with the Tactical Medicine program were to carry non-phaser weapons with them, as per the regulations of the division. Which meant that, should he somehow come out of this with his career intact, he would be carrying what was, essentially, a katana.

Although, his discussion with Aoshi just that morning came to him as he thought this. It had been the first time they'd been able to speak alone since their duel and it had been…enlightening, to say the least…

_"Aoshi…I did not get to thank you…"_

Aoshi said nothing as the door of Kenshin's quarter's slid shut behind him, hiding the security detail from view. Fathomless emerald eyes watched Kenshin for a moment or two, the silence growing heavier. To Kenshin, it seemed as though Aoshi was taking the measure of him, which was completely justified, really. Offering a small, tired smile, Kenshin stood from his seat and walked to his window, violet eyes shifting to translucent blue under the lights emanating from Space Dock.

"The captain asked me to stay, and I will…if it's possible," Kenshin sighed, glancing back at Aoshi, who had not moved. "There's no doubt in your mind either, is there? It **will **be Saitou."

"Yes," Aoshi responded simply, but continued, the same intelligence and cunning Kenshin remembered from long ago still lingering there. But that was to be expected, wasn't it? How else would he, a young man according to his species, gain the rank of Commander and head of the security division on the Enterprise _without being as skilled an individual as the onmitsu had been? In fact, if Kenshin was any judge, Aoshi was more deadly now than he had been before… "But whether or not he remembers who he was has yet to be determined."_

Kenshin contemplated this for a moment, then shook his head. "It's seems far too unlikely that he would have been the one sent to us if he didn't remember his past life."

"But that implies that the Federation is already aware that there are such things as reincarnation, or whatever it is that we are," Aoshi countered, eyes narrowing slightly. "We'll be able to determine, based on this 'Inspector', whether or not there are other reborn individuals from our time that are already known to the Federation."

"And that would bring us one step closer to the ones we have lost," Kenshin finished in a soft voice, sighing the tiniest bit. He looked away, though his words still reached Aoshi. "I have to thank you for that as well. I believed that…that there was nothing left. There are still many things that I have yet to regain, but I have the hope now that I may be able to find them, that I do."

There was a rustle of clothing and Aoshi came to stand beside him, his emerald eyes watching the dock. "Hope may not be enough for you, Himura."

"…nani?" Kenshin questioned, reverting to Japanese as he turned to stare at the man who was now one of his commanding officers. "What do you mean, de gozaru ka?"

"If I have to explain it, then it is something you are not ready to hear," Aoshi replied in an almost dispassionate voice, though the burning in his gaze betrayed the emotions he appeared to be feeling.

Though he had experienced it firsthand during their duel, Kenshin was struck all over again at how…well, how **_unlike _**himself Aoshi was. There was _reason for it, of course, but Kenshin found it so hard to accept all the changes he was seeing…and that disturbed him deeply, though he wasn't sure why. "Aoshi…you have changed, that you have."_

"And that is precisely the point," Aoshi responded, tail lashing once as he headed for the door. "Do not forget what I said, Himura: this is not Meiji. This is not Japan. This is not the past. This is the future and, inevitably, we must conform."

His back was to him now, but, if Kenshin had actually been able to see Aoshi's face, he wasn't sure if he would have been capable of understanding his thoughts.

"When this inconvenience has been dealt with, think about the nature of life in this age and decide what path you must take. And that is an order, Lieutenant."

One thing was for certain: having more than one person giving him orders once again was rather irking. Memories of the Bakumatsu would surface…and, more often then not, confuse him with their dual clarity and distance. Kenshin would recall the scent of blood and fear, the weight of a sword in his hand, the cool breeze from endless nights…then abruptly realize that those things had happened years in the past. _Centuries _ago, not just a decade or two.

And then, inexplicably, his heart would ache with loneliness. What he had said to Captain Picard remained utterly true: he was a stranger in a strange land, and he had no real idea how to change that, or how to even _cope _with a world that was suddenly leaving him far, far behind.

This life was just…too confusing, too much at once. He had never been a complicated man—not when it came to where he lived, how simple he wanted it to be—but this age was far removed from that simplistic life he remembered. Ships that sailed the stars, machines that produced food seemingly from nothing—though the part of his mind that was still Shinta knew better—rooms the could create any landscape he could possibly imagine. To a mind that had lived and died in Meiji Japan, these were things that were beyond legend, beyond speculation, in no way imagined when he had been born the first time, and not for many decades after that.

Perhaps that was what Aoshi meant. In a world so far removed from everything he had ever known, how could Kenshin ever exist? Was it even _possible_? It was true that part of him already could, had been for twenty-eight years, but was that really **him**? Or just a façade, much like the ones he had worn before…

If so, did Kenshin even want to try to adapt himself to all the things that continued to baffle and confuse him?

_But what…about the others? What if they are looking for me…like I am looking for them?_

Kenshin couldn't ignore that thought. He couldn't ignore the possibility that they were alive today, just as he was. He couldn't ignore how he still needed them, possibly more than he had ever before. Whatever Aoshi's words may have meant, Kenshin's decision would still be colored by that loneliness deep in his heart, seeking and needing everything he had lost.

_Are you…out there somewhere…?_

…Kaoru?

Kenshin's thoughts were interrupted, however, as the familiar chime of the transporter echoed throughout the room, a collection of streaks and bursts of blue-white light shimmering above the main pad. Almost unconsciously, his fists clenched at his sides, eyes hardening imperceptibly. He suspected he wasn't the only one thusly affected, though the only other people in the room were Picard and Troi. Aoshi was on the bridge with Riker, as far as Kenshin knew, the other command crew doing their various duties. After all, according to the missive sent from Temporal Investigations, the _Enterprise _would finally be allowed to leave Space Dock once this 'inconvenience' had been dealt with.

_But this is my responsibility_, Kenshin told himself silently, face calm as a figure materialized on the transporter pad, tall and lean and oh-so familiar. _So **I **must be the one to face it._

Although…he was rather glad that the Captain was there standing beside him, and Troi as well. Kenshin was without his friends and family from before, yes…but that didn't mean that there still weren't people there willing to support him, as they had so adamantly told him.

_I am…glad, that I am._

However, he could be grateful another time. The musical whine gradually died down, the light fading to further reveal the figure that stood calmly, facing them. Dark clothes, simple in cut, so deep a blue as to almost be black, a hat eerily reminiscent of old Japan law enforcement casting a shadow over a lean face. The man stepped down, movements assured and almost graceful, the gait of one long-used to travel, and aware of everything around him. He carried no weapons, but there was a sense of _danger _about him, of a readiness, like a wolf on the hunt.

Almost against his will, Kenshin's eyes narrowed, the reincarnated rurouni unable to forget that aura brushing against his senses. Even now, so many, many years later, he knew it nearly as well as he knew his own.

"Sai—"

Or so he thought.

"Oh _dear_-!"

During that step of 'wolf-like grace', the tall, lean man caught the toe of his boot on the edge of the transporter pad and tumbled to the floor, hat flying off and the bag he'd been carrying skidding over to bump into Kenshin's feet.

"…oro?"

Picard seemed likewise stunned, but recovered more quickly, hurrying quickly over to help the man to his feet. "Are you alright…Inspector?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine," the strangely light baritone said, eerily familiar yet…incredibly bizarre at the same time. "Happens all the time, actually!"

All Kenshin could do was _stare_. He looked **just like Saitou**…and was smiling apologetically at the Captain, dusting off his rumpled clothing and receiving his lost hat from Troi with an embarrassed chuckle. His hair was short, dark and sleek, the long, thin bangs over his face present as always, eyes the color of tarnished amber…except he was smiling. Smiling without that…intent he had always carried before. He even seemed…seemed…meek. And that was very close to blasphemy in Kenshin's mind.

"Ah...Lieutenant…the Inspector's bag?"

"…ro?" Kenshin said in utter confusion, stilling gaping, but blinked a second later, forcing himself to look away with great difficultly. "Y-yes Captain!"

He stooped quickly, nearly overbalancing in his haste, and hurried over to Saitou…wait, what if it _wasn't _Saitou? What if he just looked like him…? That was unlikely, yes, but so was the concept of the last of the Mibu Wolves tripping over his own feet. And even by some remote possibly he _was _Saitou Hajime, he obviously had not regained his memories from those times.

_That might…be the case. He **felt **as he used to, at least for a moment._

"Here you are I-Inspector," Kenshin managed to say with some level of normalcy as he handed the man his bag, Saitou—or whoever he was—taking it with another thankful smile.

"You are too kind. And yes, I am the Inspector, Goro Fujita," Saitou/Goro replied politely. "I apologize for my tardiness, but there was a problem with the transport."

"There's no need to worry," Picard said at once, though not before he cast a skeptical glance Kenshin's way, causing the rurouni to wince. He _had_, after all, just spent the previous morning explaining to the Captain just how cunning and dangerous a man Saitou was. "As long as we can begin the…inspection as quickly as possible. The _Enterprise _is a busy ship."

Goro let loose another bright smile at that, nodding his head enthusiastically. "Of course, of course! I'm very eager to begin as well. If what the reports you gave to Starfleet say is true, then this is a matter of great scientific importance!"

It was Troi who gave Goro the searching glance, but Picard who posed the question, voice becoming slightly more serious as he did so. "…scientific importance? Excuse me for asking, Inspector Fujita, but I thought this was a _criminal _investigation?"

Kenshin winced again at the Captain's choice of words, but he couldn't fault them, could he? What confused him, though, was Goro's response, causing him to stare once again.

"…eh? Oh, naturally. But all responsibility for this case has been handed over to Temporal Investigations, so any action against the guilty party is to be decided once other priorities have been sorted out."

The searching, critical looks from the three officers must have been enough to urge him to continue, Goro blinking once before laughing nervously. "It's an odd case, I know, but this kind of thing has never happened before. Our department within the Federation is the only one with any kind of remote experience concerning your…problem."

"…I see," Picard said after a time, gaze hard. Kenshin could guess what he was thinking: why the exception? Murder—murder as Kenshin had done, killing an individual who had already been disabled—was a serious charge in the Federation, whether or not temporal anomalies besides predestination were involved. The explanation Goro had given was facile at best, and didn't really tell them much of anything. But, to push him on that point now wouldn't be in their best interests, so Picard simply nodded his head. "That makes…sense."

Apparently relieved, Goro nodded as well and looked about excitedly, almost like a kid in a candy store. Which, with Saitou's face and voice, looked…terribly disturbing. Kenshin wondered—and not entirely in a joking way—if he would be able to get to sleep that night.

"So then!" The Inspector began again, arranging his bag more firmly over his shoulder. "Where is our anachronistic friend? If you don't mind me calling him that, that is…but what else _is _he, really?"

Kenshin resisted an 'oro', though he thought he spotted Troi smiling in amusement. At least it answered his biggest question: this man, if he was Saitou, definitely did _not _remember who he had been. The actual Saitou would know Kenshin without even having to look at him, nevermind that he was standing there in all his glory, red hair, cross-shaped scar, and Starfleet uniform and all.

Picard, in any case, lifted a brow, but gestured to Kenshin. "Ehem…this is Lieutenant Shinta Akimatsu…although, as you read in the report, Ke—"

"The Hitokiri Battousai, Himura Kenshin!" Goro interrupted excitedly, all but scampering past an irked-looking Picard to stand in front of Kenshin, leaning this way and that, obviously inspecting him. "My my my, I didn't realize all those rumors were true! Or that they would be in this century, at least. I should have recognized you at first, but my level of attention wavers at times, you'll have to forgive me…but look at you! Just as short as I imagined!"

One of Kenshin's eyebrows twitched, but he restrained himself. Being called short was one thing and a very true one, unfortunately…what bothered him was how much research this person appeared to have done. Surely…surely if they had looked into his past—given in brief in the report—wouldn't they have seen information on Saitou? Or at least a police officer with this man's exact same name?

_Not all…is as it seems, that it is not._

However, dark thoughts could be saved for later, as Goro's 'inspection' was getting a little too friendly for Kenshin's liking. Luckily, Picard coughed into his fist rather loudly, and Goro shot back up straight, then laughed nervously once again.

"Forgive me, I get a little carried away sometimes. But you have to admit this is a chance of a lifetime. Even reincarnated, an individual with memories and input from hundreds of years ago is far more precious than any artifact or record we could ever uncover. Oh! But I'm being rude, aren't I?" At that, he stopped his stream of words and offered Kenshin a deep, almost reverent bow in the old style, one which the rurouni nervously returned. "I am very pleased to meet you, ah…Himura-san! While I know I'm here in a judgmental position concerning your involvement with that…unpleasant incident planetside, I want you to know I shall do everything I can to make sure you are treated fairly!"

"…t-thank you," Kenshin managed to stutter in return as he stood upright again, more confused than ever. Were things…really as bad as he thought? He had his own inner problems, yes, but even if he still felt separated from this world, he _knew _it couldn't really be this easy…could it?

"Well then, if that's settled," Picard interrupted briskly, now in a mode his command crew called 'pleasantly inclined'. He would be polite…as long as people did what they were told. "Would you allow our ship's counselor to show you to your temporary quarters? You can debrief us in a more detailed fashion once you're settled."

"Yes, of course! I look forward to more discussion with you both!" Goro said at once, giving Kenshin another quick, excited bow before following Troi—who was diplomatically keeping a straight face—out the door.

It took a moment, but Kenshin eventually found his voice, shoulders slumping rather helplessly. "Captain…I may have been mistaken. The Saitou that I knew never…acted like that. It just…wasn't possible."

Picard didn't respond at first, then straightened his uniform in a brisk manner, voice calm. "That may be true, but I think you and I can agree that the Inspector is not all that he seems. Even if he isn't this Saitou person, there may still be reason to be concerned."

Kenshin had to smile a little at that, glancing at his commanding officer. "So you had the Counselor escort him rather than yourself, after which you'll ask her opinion of him."

"Precisely," Picard responded with some justified satisfaction. "In any event, we must prepare for the briefing, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Captain," Kenshin replied, almost naturally, and was strangely heartened by that fact as they walked out of the transporter room together.

****

……………

OMG I LIVE. It has been…some months, no? But eh, an update is an update and, hopefully, I can get back into it with a little more expediency. I just didn't feel inspired for this story for a while, but I think it's coming back, so that's something to be celebrated, ne? Let us all hope together, then! That is, if anyone is still reading…if not, then I shall dance in victory on my own!

**Wren Truesong: **Many thanks for the kudos! They are much appreciated, especially when I'm having writer's block.

**baka deshi: **Funny that you should ask about Hiko, mainly because…he's already been mentioned! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Hiko's already been in this fic…somewhere…but I'm not telling!

**jesphoenix05: **Now that you have seen what I have done to Saitou (the BLASPHEMY) all details concerning what's up with him and who he might know are a myyyyysteeerryyyy…

**Kalai Eljahn: **Thanks for the praise! Although lay off the 'pleases'; stroking an author's ego is always WAY better towards getting updates, perhaps even just a little encouragement and rightful appreciation. After all, writer's block is a terrible, terrible thing, so we authors are very fragile when we have it!

Until next time, folks!


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